


Out of House and Home

by TaraxacumClocks (DandelionSea)



Category: Undertale, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Baby Blasters, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Angst, Baby blaster, Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Dadsby, Experimentation, Gasterblaster AU, Gen, Handplates, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Experimentation, Medical Torture, Torture, Underfell, Underfell Papyrus, Underfell Sans, baby blasters, baby bones, evil gaster, zarla-z
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6028894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DandelionSea/pseuds/TaraxacumClocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Underground isn't the nicest place.  Make one wrong move, say one wrong word, and you're dead.  Needless to say things aren't easy for Sans and Papyrus, escaped experiments of one W.D. Gaster, on the run from the scientist and the rest of the royal guard. </p><p>Or</p><p>Baby Blaster/Handplates AU meets Underfell</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Capture!

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Trust](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5378657) by [KeetahSpacecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeetahSpacecat/pseuds/KeetahSpacecat). 



Sans runs.

He runs as fast as he can, as long as he can, through the searing heat of Hotland and into the wet swamplands of waterfall.  He runs until his legs finally give out - exhaustion weighing down on his fragile body.  He can no longer hear the sounds of blaring alarms and the yells of angered scientists, so he allows himself this moment of rest.  He rolls over onto his back and just breaths.

They are out.  

They are finally free from that damned place.

Sans lays on the ground and gives a quiet, hollow laugh.  He never thought that the world could be this big, this bright, this colorful; it’s too much.  He wants to go back, but he knows he can’t.  They were going to kill him!  The scientist was done with him and was ready to move on.  They wanted to dissect him and replace him with Papyrus!  

Sans shutters.

In his arms, the toddler squirms.  Papyrus had been barely awake when Sans decided to make a break for it, and now he was getting groggy.  Sans bounces him a few times, his way of reassuring his tiny dependent that he is safe.  

Even though that is far from the truth.

It's time to move on.  Sans shifts into his blaster form, then gently maneuvers the tiny child onto his back.  They have to keep moving.  The Scientist has undoubtedly notified Asgore by now, and with _him_ looking for them… Sans doesn’t even want to think about it.

Sans starts into a fast canter.

Freedom is theirs -

\- now what to do with it?

 

\---

 

Snowdin, the small town at the edge of the Underground, doesn’t have much.  They’re pretty much the forgotten, frozen wasteland of the Underground.  Most of the residents are resentful rodents, and the ones who aren’t are ex and current criminals.  Most people who pass through tend to leave poorer and with one less limb than when the came.  

So no, Snowdin doesn’t have much.

But what it does have is Grillby’s.

Grillby’s is the nicest (and only) bar in Snowdin.  They serve drinks and food at moderate prices and the place is relatively clean… well, clean enough for the people there.  It’s run by an owner of the same name; a blue flame monster with a distaste for most life.  Of course, the place also doubles as a sort of hide out for the Underground’s underground.  Some would even call it a front, but Grillby never gets involved in the stuff himself.  Too political for his taste.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get some entertainment out of it.  

Most of the Royal Guard's dog team come as regulars too, and the fights that break out almost always end with a death.  Grillby sometimes even puts money on who’s gonna kick it first, the rebel or the law.  It's almost always the rebel, and if it isn't then, it is the next day.

With the wide variety of patrons that visit his bar everyday, Grillby hears a lot of gossip.  Matilda’s husband’s infidelity, Gerson’s retirement due to illness, and, of course, what everyone’s been talking about, the new “residents” of Snowdin.

“I saw ‘em last night, Grilbz,” a drunk rabbit tells him one night.  “I swear- I swear they was out nea’ here.”

Grillby ignores her.  She is the town’s worst drunk and, coincidentally, gossiper, so anything and everything she says can be assumed to be either false or exaggerated beyond recognition of the truth.  Still, sometimes she comes up with a good story, so Grillby listens.

“That’s wonderful news, Janette,” A monster next to her says mockingly.  “Did they bite your face or have you always been this ugly?”

“Now listen’ here ya lil shit,” Janette slurs and Grillby rolls his eyes.  He had just cleaned up from a brawl yesterday, he isn't about to deal with that again tonight.

“If there is going to be a fight in my bar tonight, I don't care _who_ starts it, I’m going to be the one to finish it,” He says, slamming his hands on the bar between them.  The two of them come to a begrudging truce.  He sneers and goes to collect the dishes.

“I saw ‘em though, honest,” Janette tells him on his return.  “They’s just like they’re sayin’ they is.  One minute they’s dogs then the next-” She makes an over exaggerated motion with her hands, knocking over their bottle “-skeletons.  How’s that fo’ a story?”

“That’s wonderful,” Grillby says, going to sweep up the mess she made.  If it weren’t for all the money she made him with her drinking habits, he’d have banned her a long time ago.

Though, to be honest, he has been listening to the stories of the lost pups, and it has kept his interest.  There have been sightings all over Snowdin of two shape-shifting skeletons rummaging about people’s trash.  They’d even started breaking into people’s homes, taking food and blankets but never money or anything valuable - sometimes even staying the night before being chased out by the owners.  Everyone’s been trying to catch the little nuisances.  The Royal Guard is looking for them too, and even though most of the town thinks it's because of the break ins, Grillby knows better.  The Royal Guard don’t go after petty criminals or they’d be busy all the time.  These kids fucked up _bad_ somewhere down the line.

Not that it really matters to Grillby.  They mostly stayed away from the center of town where there were a lot of people, so the bar had never been pilfered - and those kids better be glad they didn’t touch Grillby’s place.  He’d burn their asses out.

At closing time, Grillby goes through his usual routine of cleaning dishes and stacking chairs.  Grillby takes his time; he lives in the backrooms of his bar, so there isn’t ever any need for him hurry to get home.  

When he’s going though his bottles he notices that he is low on Whisky.  He curses silently to himself.  Normally he has the stuff delivered from the capital, but when he runs out like this a quick trip to Waterfall will normally solve the issue.  Grilby grumbles to himself; he _loaths_ waterfall, and he hates late night trips even more, but he’s gotta open up in the morning if he wants business to keep going.

Grillby trudges out in the cold.  The town never sleeps truly sleep, though this is one of its more restful hours, with only a few late night outers, most of which are up to no good.  Grillby ignores them and they ignore him back.  It's a silent code that most rarely every break.  He passes by several of the more run down, beaten up houses; he thinks to go to the river person for travel, but decides against it.  The water is dangerous in that amount and the river person's a bit of a prick.

He is walking down the the strip leading to the entrance to Waterfall when he is spotted.

“Well look at that,” A voice calls over the quiet rush of water.  “The flame’s out in the cold.”

Grillby curses silently, then turns, “Ah yes, Ice Cap, Snowdrake," He greats the two delinquents. "Should you kids be in bed at this hour?”

The local teens.  A few months back they’d formed a little gang and have been tormenting the town ever since.  It was only a week ago the had “decorated” Gyftrot with forced tattoos.  Grillby hides his hands in his pockets and readies a fireball just in case.

“Shouldn’t you be drunk at this hour?” Snowdrake says, laughing at his own quip.

“Don’t you know nobody comes through _our_ turf at night, old man?” Ice Cap Challenges.

“Come now, Ice Cap” Grillby says, smiling sweetly.  “We’re practically family.  After all, you’re mother spends more time at my bar than she does with your father.”

Probably not the best way to handle the situation, because now Ice Cap is sputtering with rage.  Snowdrake holds back his friend for a moment, then flutters forward slyly.

“We can’t just let you _flake_ out on the fee,” He says, grinning wildly.

“What fee?” Grillby growls.

“The fee we just made up,” Ice Cap snips.

Grillby has to keep his flame in check to keep from burning out in rage, though he can’t help but melt the snow beneath his feet.

“And since you in _snow_ ted my friend,” Snowdrake says, pushing himself deep into Grillby’s personal space.  “I think it’s gonna be double.”

Grillby snaps.  Yanking his hands out of pockets, he singes Snowdrake with hot blue flames.  He jumps back, feathers ruffled, but mostly unharmed.  It was a warning shot, but he at least wanted to scare the kids, instead he seems to have only angered them.

Snowdrake and Ice Cap lunge at Grillby.  He dodges their attacks and sends back one of his own.  Unfortunately, the two boys have their youth on their side; they're faster and able to take more hits than Grillby.  Despite all his anger and aggression, Grillby is just a bartender.  Hell, the only reason he hasn’t been killed yet living in Snowdin is that he owns the only functioning place that serves alcohol.

Grillby decides to cut his losses and run, tipping off Ice Cap's hat to buy him some time.  They give chase but with a few twist and turns Grillby had picked up from his years in Snowdin, he manges to lose him in the town.  Grillby stops to catch his breath in an alleyway, then lets loose a slew of curses.  

Those brats!  Those stupid brats had just made a laughing stock of him.  There's no way there _aren't_ going to be rumors popping up about this.  He'll be a target for sure.  If word gets out a couple of wild teens can beat him, there's no telling who else will want a piece of him?

Grillby breathes a few sharp breaths in a failing attempt to calm himself.  He might can still catch up with the kids, catch them off guard.  He doesn't have to dust them, just give them a few scars to write home about.  As long as he can prove that nobody messes with him and gets away with it it'll be enough...

His flames die down.  No.  It wouldn’t work.  This had been happening more and more lately with him.  Grillby has been attacked nine times in the past four months, and he almost always leaves without a single burn mark on his opponent.  He’s getting old.  Soon someone’s gonna get mad at him, or want something from him, or just get bored and decide that Grillby’s overstayed his welcome in Snowdin.

Grillby slams his hand against the brick wall.

Dammit!

In this world it's kill or be killed, and if Grillby can’t kill anymore…

Grillby’s flames grow from blue to white in intensity.  He burns a couple of trash bags in his display of frustration and anger.  It’s not much, but the small bit of mindless destruction is enough to sate his rage.  Violently shoving his hands into his pockets, Grillby trudges home.

 

\---

Sans pulls Papyrus close to him.  It’s getting colder, or maybe it was just him.  Papyrus squirms away, choosing to be independent rather than warm.  Sans shivers.  

How long has it been since they have eaten?  It’s been a while now, hasn’t it.  What _was_ the last thing they ate?  Was it those old cinnabuns that lady threw out a week ago, or was it perhaps those bits of monster candy they found dropped in the snow.  Sans tries to remember, if only to satisfy his hunger mentally.

Papyrus begins to yip, and Sans shushes him.  They are staying in an abandoned house not too far outside of town where not many people live, but even so, Sans doesn’t want to be heard.  Papyrus growls in frustration.  He’s hungry too.

“not now, pap,” Sans says.  “we can’t go out now.”

Papyrus is too young to fully understand, but he _does_ understand that he is not getting his way, and this makes him angrier.  Sans knows that he’s about to face a full blown fit if he doesn’t do something quick.

“alright, alright,” Sans says, pulling himself up.  “i’ll get us something.”

Sans wobbles a little in his step, but quickly shifts to his quadrupedal form.  He is still unsteady, but it’s much better.  Papyrus climbs onto his back, unsympathetic to Sans’ struggle to carry the weight.  Sans huffs and makes his way out the small hole in the floor.  

Sans instantly regrets coming out.  The cold inside had been deep and penetrating, but the cold out _here_ is like tiny daggers ripping through his periosteum.  Sans closes his eyes against the cold and pushes through.  There has to be _something_ out here to eat.  He makes his way to one of the houses he knows is inhabited and begins looking through their trash.  No such luck.  The garbage must have been picked up before he got here, because there is nothing by the metal cans.  

Sans checks from house to house, either disappointed or chased off at every turn.

When he gets a little closer to one house, though, he smells something incredible, which is odd, since he had been sure this house was empty, but the smell is so enticing that he forgets himself and goes to have a look.  Sans crawls through a broken window and sneaks closer to the place emanating that enticing smell.

“Then the old geezer shows up!”

Sans stops dead in his tracks.  There is laughter coming from directly up ahead.  The same place that that smell is coming from.  Sans’ mind is fighting.  He is hungry - starving, even - but after being chased, beaten and thrown out by so many monsters, he knows  _exactly_  what to expect from these people if he's caught trying to take their food.  But then there’s food, and his more primal instincts tell him to take the food from them, by force if necessary.  Sans knows in his current state he doesn’t have the energy to fight them, but even so…

He doesn’t have to make the decision, though, as Papyrus makes it for him, dashing off his back towards the smell of a meal.

Sans quickly scampers after him, grabbing him by his collar bone and dragging him back away from the door.  

“You guys hear somethin’?”

“I think it was rats.”

Sans keeps still for a moment, waiting for the monsters in the next room to go back to their conversation.  When they do, Sans lightly puts Papyrus down and whispers for him to stay put.  He begrudgingly agrees, though he still looks as though he’s ready to make a mad dash for the food.

Sans creeps his way into the next room.  There are four boys roasting hot dogs around a fire that is contained in a small pit in the middle of the room.  Sans’ mouth waters involuntarily, and he slips through the door and behind a broken couch.

“So then he insults my mum and Snowy’s all like, ‘Back off or else.’  So you know what the old man does?  Fuckin’ tries to burn our asses!”

There’s a gasp.

“And you got out okay?” One with no arms says.  

“Of course we did,” Another says.  “We’re Snowden's finest gangsters!  Ain’t nobody’s gonna _ice_ us.”

While they’re all busy laughing (mostly out of pity) at their friend’s joke, Sans creeps over to where the teens have stored their extra hot dogs.  It takes graceful movement and constant watching, but he gets close enough to…

“Hey!  What’s that!?”

Sans looks up in horror to find that Papyrus is standing in the doorway, looking aggressive.  Sans quickly darts the rest of the way forward to get to the food, but is stopped by a large bird monster.

“What’da think you’re doing, _wiener?”_

Sans backs up, but runs right into the monster with no arms, who kicks him to the ground and holds him there, like a hunter posing for his shoot.  Papyrus darts forward to help his brother, but is stopped by the other two teenagers.

“I get it,” the bird says.  “You’re those two newbies the royal guard's lookin’ for?  The one’s who’s been stealin’ around here.”

Sans doesn’t have the energy to shift to answer him, so he just sits there looking at him.

The bird sneers,  “We go a _bone_ to pick thieves on our terf, punk.”  He begins pacing.  “Now, I don’t know what you’ve done to get on the royal dog’s bad side, but it’s gotta be pretty big, right?”  He stops inches from Sans and bends over.  “And I think that dustin’ two powerful baddies like you will give us all the street cred we need.”

Sans leaps up and bites the teen on the nose.  He jumps back in pain and Sans slips out from under the other kid’s foot.  He runs for Papyrus, who is able to worm his way out of the kid’s grasp.  Once as Papyrus is on his feet, he fires a wild blast, missing all of the monsters in the room, but leaving a sizable hole in the wall and stunning everyone silent.  While they are in shock, Sans grabs Papyrus’ scruff and makes a dash for the door.

“Grab 'em!”

Sans can hear the teens following him for a long time.  He twists and turns through the houses, but these monsters have lived here longer than he has, and they know the streets.  It take a long time, but finally Sans can no longer hear the angry, determined voices.

He leans back against a brick wall and pants.  Papyrus looks around and growls, as if waiting for something to pop up for him to shoot, making too much noise in the process. Sans doesn’t care at this point.  He had used up the last of his energy running from those monsters.  He can’t go on.  He can’t even move!

Papyrus seems to noise his brother’s distress and goes over to him.  He grabs sans by the ulna and pulls, trying to get him to stand again.  He whines sadly, then starts barking.  Sans shushes him halfheartedly, then lays down.  Sans is tired.  The cold is seeping back into him and he feels sleep pulling him down…

Papyrus wines, annoyed and scampers off.

Sans’ feels his heart break.  His brother left him.  The only thing he had the world just up and left him, and Sans doesn’t even have the energy to give chase.  Sans feels tears fall down his canine face, and he can’t wipe away his shame in his current form.  

Sans closes his eyes.

He’s on the edge of unconsciousness when he feels the snows in front of his face shift.  He sniffs curiously, lacking the energy to actually open his eyes and check what it is that was placed in front of his face.  It smells wet and musty and… like food?

Sans’ eye shoot open and he shifts his weight forward.  Food!  It was definatly food!  Papyrus was sitting in front of his, wagging his tail.  Sans wanted to cry.  He tore into the food variously, sparing not even a single bite.  Feeling new energy, Sans gets up and moves to Papyrus.

“where’d you find that?” He asks.

"FOLLOW!” Papyrus commands, showing Sans the way.  Sans chases after his brother as quickly as he can manage on his wobbly legs.  He is lead to a garbage bag, freshly thrown out and absolutely full of food.  Sans tears into the bag, letting its contents spill out carelessly, breaking a few bottles in the process.  He and Papyrus gorge themselves on old hamburgers, french fries and other foods that were half eaten and thrown away.

The brothers so busy eating, they didn’t even notice they were being watched.

 

\---

 

When Grillby gets home, to say that he was in a sour mood was to say that Hotland has a mild climate.  He throws his coat onto a stool, kicks a chair then pours himself a drink.  A strong one.  This is a nightmare.  He goes through half a bottle before he realizes that he had forgotten to take the trash out before the garbage man came to collect, and isn’t that just the fucking cherry on top of this shit sundae of a day!  He throws the bags carelessly out into the alley way by the side of his bar before sitting back down on the stool.

What is he going to do now?

The bottle is empty now and he get gets up replace it.

He can’t protect himself anymore.  The Underground isn't safe place for anyone, but people tend to be alright if they stay in groups, problem is Grillby’s never really been a “team player”.  Any guild he’s tried to join in the past now wants his head, and even if he _did_ manage to find someone to protect him, he didn’t have much to offer other than the bar…

And like _hell_ he’s giving _that_ up to some sleazy lowlifes.

Grillby sighs and puts his head on the bar.  

Maybe it’s time to give up.  Life is getting boring anyways, why even bother?  It’s just the same people drinking the same drinks doing the same things… there wasn’t anything new, there hasn’t been anything new in _years_ …

Or maybe that was the liquor talking?

Who knows.  Either way if he gives up now he’ll be a laughing stock even in death.  The great Grillby, got too old then gave up living.

Grillby throws away the empty bottle then steadies himself.  Maybe he overdid it a bit with the alcohol.  It would probably be best if he got some sleep now.  It’ll be hard enough getting up with the hangover he’s gonna have, he doesn’t need to stay up late as well.  Grillby stumbles his way over to the back room door when he hears a small crash outside.

Grillby thinks to ignore it, but then remembers the danger that he’s in and makes his way towards the noise.  If it is those kids again he isn't sure what he'll do.  Killing them was always an option, but if he didn't stand a chance before he doesn't think he'll stand much of a chance now.  Still, the alcohol propels him forward.

When he opens the door, the first thing Grillby notices are his trash bags strew about across the alleyway, which is a shame, because _someone’s_ gonna have to pick that up in the morning.  The next thing he notices is two small animals digging around in the remnants of the bag.  They look like a cross between dogs, cats and lizards.  One is slightly bigger, presumably older.  Maybe it's the mother?  No, it looks young too... in fact both are very young and malnourished.

Grillby watches on in slight disgust as the animals root through his trash.  The alcohol affecting his brain, Grillby thinks to call out to the little animals, thinking that they may want something better to eat than trash.

“Hey,” he slurs, the two little dog-like creatures jumping in surprise.  “You two hungry?”

The animals are frozen, as if trying to decide what the next best course of action to take.  Grillby takes their silence as a yes and goes back into the kitchen.  He doesn’t have it in him to cook anything, considering that he’d currently using the bar to prop himself up, so he goes to one of the cabinets and gets a small box of crackers that he likes to put out at the bar.  He goes back out into the alleyway to see that the two creatures haven’t left, but are instead trying to carry the garbage away in part of the bag.

“Don’t... don’t… don’t eat that,” Grillby says, throwing the crackers to the ground, startling both pups.  “Here.  You don’t… you don’t have to… to pay.  It’s free.”

Grillby staggers back inside and drags himself to his bed, where he immediately collapses and falls unconscious.  He doesn’t even remember getting there when he wakes up, the last thing he can clearly think of being him getting upset those kids humiliated him.  Grillby, as expected from the exorbitant amount of alcohol he consumed last night, has one of the worst hangovers he’s had all month, but he still has to open up shop.

He can’t look like his loss affected him.  He can’t even look like he thinks he lost.  His confidence would be the only thing keeping him afloat now.

His regulars start flowing in at their usual times, and Grillby serves them as usual.  No one mentions what happened with the teens, so Grillby can only assume that they either haven’t heard, or they are too afraid of getting kicked out to mention it.  Both are good.  Things seem to be going normal and smooth…

...that is until Janette arrives.

“So!  Grillby!” Janette says, plopping herself as close to Grillby as she can.  “How’s the bruises.”

Grillby sighs, “What bruises?”

“The bruises from last night’s fight, silly,” She says, bouncing her head to one side.  “I heard it was a brutal knockout.”

“Do I _look_ like I was attacked last night?” Grillby snaps, but Janette just giggles.

“It’s hard to tell under all those flames,” Janette quips, before her eyes become more sinister, “You know, I’ll promise not to tell anyone if you gimme a drink. Just one on the house. Whaddaya say, Grillbz?”

“I say blow me,” Grillby hisses, “You’ll probably just tell everyone when you’re drunk anyways.  Now buy something or get out!”

Janette snickers.  “I’ll have a bottle of Whiskey.”

“Outta Whiskey,” Grillby says, picking up a glass to wipe down.

“Come on, you’re breaking my heart,” Janette pouts, before selecting another bottle.  “Ya know, you’re lucky you got attacked when you did,” She says after a few minutes of drinking.  “‘s been a loooot of crazy going on this morning.”

“Oh?” Grillby says, knowing there’s no point in trying to evade the conversation.

“Mmhm,” She says.  “Royal Guard put up a poster for those two kids they’s looking for.  Has a loooooot of money on it.”

“How much?” Grillby says, genuinely intrigued.

Janette tells him.  Grillby whistles.

“Yeah, that kinda money’ll make any story seem like yesterday’s news,” Janette giggles.

With that kind of money, Grillby could _buy_ the protection that he’d need.  He wouldn’t have to worry about a thing for the rest of his life… then again, he’d have to fight everyone in the village for a chance at the little shapeshifters, and he has no idea where to even begin looking.

Still, it’s good luck that it happened on the same day as his… defeat.  The town probably won’t even _think_ about him with that much cash up for grabs.

As the day goes on, people come and go.  New stories surface, most of which have at least something to do with the skeleton pups.  It really was a mad hunt for the dogs.  Funny thing is, no one seems to know what the kids did.  Not even the Royal Guard’s dogs could answer when Grillby asked.  It is an odd case, and something about it seems vaguely familiar, like Grillby’s forgotten something in a dream.

With all the business he’s attracting from bounty hunters to enthusiasts, the day goes by pretty quickly, and Grillby is closing up and kicking Janette out before he even knows it.

Grillby sweeps up and dusts the counters, does the dishes and takes out the trash.  All in all, it was a good day.  Not the best, but certainly better than he was expecting.  Grillby opens the back door and stares at his ally way.

It’s wrecked.

The trash has been torn up and strew across the entire alley way, smearing the snow with ketchup and grease.  It’s almost as if some wild animals…

...wild animals.

Oh...

Last night some stupid animals tore up his trash, and instead of chasing them off like Normal Grillby would have done, Drunk Grillby had the bright idea of throwing a box of crackers their way.  To the animal’s credit, the crackers were nowhere to be found, so at least they know how to take advantage of a fool like Grillby.  Unfortunately for him, now Grillby is out of Whisky _and_ crackers.  

Grillby kicks the garbage can angrily, then proceeds to pick up the trash and throw it harshly into the proper reciprocal.  He shoves in the garbage that he had originally intended to throw away and stomps back into the bar.

Other than that, the day's been great!  With nothing left to do with the rest of his night, Grillby makes his way to the liquor cabinet and take inventory.  There isn't much left, but he'll get his shipment tomorrow so there isn't any reason not to empty out a bottle or two.

He selects a square, blue bottle, barely paying attention to what's in it.  A glass and a half later he decides to slow down, not wanting a hang over like last night.  There isn't a T.V. In the bar simply because Grillby can't afford it, so with nothing to do he just sits there and thinks.  

Despite the town’s frenzy over the latest hunt, Grillby knows he’s still in danger.  Once as the monsters capture, kill or forget about the kids, he’ll be next.  He’s like a wolf with a limp - waiting for the pack to decide he’s become a burden and finish him off.  

As far as he can see, he has two options now; accept his fate and die, or fight.  He can’t exactly fight it physically anymore, but maybe finding some protection wouldn’t be such a bad idea.  Grillby has money, not a lot, mind you, but enough that he could probably bribe his way into some connections.  The more important he makes himself, the less likely it is that the town will turn on him.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his trash tipping over.  Swearing, Grillby grabs a broom and prepares to chase off some wild animals...

...only to be greeted by two skeleton kids.

They are small, even for children, with noticeable breaks and cuts and bruises covering their bones.  Grillby washes as they pull through the trash, and he connects the dots in his head.

The animals last night.

The wanted kids.

The skeletons...

Ah.  It all makes sense now.

The smaller of the pair notices him first and pulls the larger's coat.  When the other sees him, he jumps back, pulling the child behind him.

For a while, they just stare at each other, as if waiting for the other to make the first move.  Finally, the older one speaks up.

"do you have any more?"

Grillby is shocked.  Was the kid _asking_ him for something?  For food?  The kid should be able to take it from him, if he was as strong as the rumors say.

The kid repeats himself, and Grillby slowly nods his head.  He motions for the kids to follow him, and the older one picks up what Grillby assumes to be his brother.

Do they know that they are wanted - That there is a bounty on their heads?  Maybe not, because they follow him right into the bar with no questions asked.  Grillby doesn't take his eyes off the kids as he searches through the bar for something for them to eat.  He eventually finds a half eaten bag of chips, and brings to over to the pair.

The closer he gets, the more he can _smell_ the kids.  They smell like dirt, vomit and piss.  It makes him sick to his stomach, but he fights through it and places the bag on the table.  The duo quickly attack it, surprising Grillby with their ravenous behavior, despite expecting it.  

As the two eat, Grillby stands back and watched with a kind of sick glee.  He found them!  He really found them!  Now all he has to is incapacitate them and deliver them up to the royal guard with a bow tied neatly around their heads and the money is his.

A man can do a lot with that kind of money

And Grillby has a few good ideas of what he’ll do.  First, he’s going to leave this hole in the middle of nowhere, maybe head over to Hotland with the rest of the Flames, and open up a new bar.  Then he’s going to buy himself all the protection he could ever want.  No one will mess with him again!  He’ll make himself a one man guild!

And all he has to do is get these kids to the guard.

“Would you like something to drink?” Grillby asks the pair of children sitting at his table in the sweetest voice he can manage.  They flinch at the sound of his words.  The younger child quickly nods, not shy at all about demanding things from his host, while the other holds back, seemingly aware of the older monster’s plans.

Grillby ignores the skeleton and heads behind his bar.  He mixes together some orange juice and tonic, adding in a powdered drug he’d confiscated from a desperate looking monster a few days ago.  He returns to the children and hands them the glasses.  The smaller dives right in enthusiastically, draining the glass in second, while the elder sniffs the glass cautiously.  Grillby tries not to let his nervousness show, hoping that the monster he’d taken the powder from had a better taste in drugs than he did women.

Slowly, though, the older monster takes a drink from the glass, and is soon drinking with as much enthusiasm as his brother.

“MORE!” The small child cries, slamming the glass down.

The elder is mortified, quickly shushing his sibling and looking at Grillby with frightened eyes.  Under any other circumstances, Grillby would have been enraged by such bratty behavior, but with what this child is worth, he can let it slide.  He takes the glass to refill it, offering the same to the elder, who refused adamantly.  

As Grillby is filling the glass again, he hears a thud.  A sick grin spreads across his face.  That worked fast.

Grillby looks from behind the counter.  The older brother is hunched over his younger counterpart, who seems to have collapsed out of his chair.  Grillby slowly makes his way over to the boys, sparking the blue flames in his palms.  When the elder sees him approaching, he falls backwards, seemingly dizzy himself.

“Now then,” Grillby says, voice smooth and pitched with glee.  “You two are going to take a nice little nap, then we’re going on a fun little trip.”  He bends over the children.  “How does that sound?”

The elder glares at him, fear and panic evident in his eye sockets.  Then the boy shift.  It is the strangest thing Grillby has ever seen.  The bones realign themselves and the boy is suddenly an animal - wolf-like and ferrial.

Grillby knew the boy could shapeshift, but is stunned by actually seeing it, and the child takes his opportunity.  He opens his mouth and unleashes a blast of pure energy.  If Grillby were a second too slow, he would have been incinerated, but he makes it to the ground before the beam could reach him.  

Grillby looks behind him and notices in horror that there is a hole in the ceiling, burnt at the edges.  How powerful _are_ these kids?

While he is distracted, the child quickly darts to his fallen brother and grabs him by the spine.  He doesn’t make it far though, as he collapses not three feet from the door.

Grillby sits for a moment, dazed by the excitement, then he giggles gleefully to himself.  He did it!  He got them!  He brought down the powerful, shapeshifting demons!  He had them completely at his mercy now.  Grillby brings himself to his feet slowly and brushes himself off, then he walks nonchalantly over to the collapsed pup and his brother.  The creature is still conscience, glaring at him weakly.  If the pup had eyes, they would be glossy right now.  He makes a small, growling noise, as if trying and failing to threaten.  Grillby simply bends over and picks him up by his collar bone, then scoops up the other in his free arm.

For once in his life, something seems to be going right in Grillby’s world.


	2. Skeletons in the Closet

Gaster paces the room.

On one side of the room there are neat stacks of papers and on the other are video tapes organized by date.  Every so often Gaster stops his pacing to straighten one of the stacks, or flip through his notes, or review a video, then he returns to his mindless walk.  

It's well past the time he said he would be here, so what's the hold up?  Just because he's king doesn't mean he gets to keep people waiting.  Gaster has waited long enough.  The experiments escaped nearly a month and a half ago and the only reason Gaster knew they were still alive is that there are a few scattered sightings of them in Snowdin.  If it wasn't for all his other projects Gaster would be down there looking for them himself.

Gaster sighs and leans back into his chair.  All that work, years of research and development, gone, just like that.  He was so close, too.  A few more months with P2 and he would have been ready for his next trial run.  What had gone so wrong?

It is S1's fault.  It has to be.  That failure must have been the one to run away with P2;  S1 was always coddling the smaller experiment. He should have terminated the little brat ages ago.  Gaster traces circles around the holes in his palms.  It's too late for regrets, now he just has to find the experiments before they die or get corrupted.  

"Howdy, Gaster!" 

The familiar voice rings through the room.  If Gaster was anyone else, he would have jumped, but Gaster simply turns and greets the King of the Monsters with a curt nod.

“You’re late,” He says.

“My apologies, Dr.,” Asgore says, slowly moving into the room.  His large stature is more noticeable now that he is standing in the room.  Gaster is a tall monster, but Asgore is a  _ giant _ .  Still, the king does not intimidate Gaster because Gaster knows Asgore.  He is strong and determined, however he lacks the… coldness of other monsters.  If one was to be brave enough they may even call him sentimental, though they would have to fight him for it after, and that is a fight no one wants to have.

“No matter, it’s not as if time is of the essence,” Gaster says, leaning back on his work table.  “The experiments may never be found at this rate, but who cares, really?  No one wants the barrier open, right?”

Asgore glares at Gaster, but otherwise does not comment.  Gaster pushes himself off the desk and paces over to the King, hands behind his back.

“Now that you have  _ graced _ me with your time and presence,” Gaster says.  “I have a few requests to make.”

“Go on,” The king says. 

“You have seen the progress I have been making with P2, correct,” Gaster asks.

The king grimaces, “Yes… I have… watched the videos you sent me.”

Gaster rolls his eyes.  The king has always had a problem with the experiments looking like children.  Sentiment, nothing more. 

“Then you can see the improvements from the previous model,” Gaster says. “More HP, more ATTACK, more  _ aggression _ .”  Gaster closes his fists with excitement.  “If it is returned to me - with your help, of course - I would be able to break the barrier in less than a year, guaranteed.  All I would need is a small search party.  No more than thirdy or forty of your Guard.  Then the surface is ours.”

“Gaster…”

“Then there would be the matter of fighting the humans…” He continues.

“Gaster.”

“It wouldn’t be much of a problem,” Gaster waves a hand dismissively.  “P2 doubles as a killing machine.  He’s killed dozens of monsters by now - humans should be no problem.  It’s only a matter of-”

“Gaster!”

Gaster finally stops and looks at the agitated king.  Asgore takes a deep breath and sighs.  “I appreciate your efforts, Dr., but you see, you’ve made promises like this before.”

Gaster looks taken aback.  “This is different.”

Asgore shakes his head.  “I am sorry, but I cannot fill your request.”  Gaster is enraged, but the king continues.  “I have already informed the guard to look for the children-”

“-experiments,” Gaster corrects.

“-and I have even sponsored the search myself.  However, diverting any more resources to give you a search party of your own would put the entire underground at risk.”

“But for the good of all monsters-” Gaster is cut off by a raised hand.

“I understand how much this project means to you - to all monsters,” Asgore says calmly, “but I can simply do no more to help you.  Now we must be patient and let the guard do their job.  I suggest you get back to work on your other projects in the meantime;  the core can always use improvement, after all.”

There is a long silence.  Gaster glares at Asgore until finally he sighs, “Is that all you’ve come here to tell me?”

“I am afraid so,” Asgore says.  “I must apologise once more.”

Gaster composes himself, straightening his back and folding his arms professionally.  “Then I must return to my duties.  Good day.”

Asgore looks at the obsessed monster sadly, but simply nods and takes his leave.

Gaster glares once more at the spot where the king once stood, then huffs.

To hell with his other projects! he has spent too much time on those brats to let them get away. 

Gaster throws off his lab coat and exchanges it for something warmer.  

He’ll need it where he’s going.

 

\---

 

Grillby throws the skeletons into the closet and locks the door, not that it’ll do much if the kids come to judging by the damage to his ceiling.  He’ll have to get something to patch that up later.  Or not.

He’s still a little giddy - part from the adrenaline rush and part from the capture of the little vermin that are gonna make him rich.  Now he just has to get them to the royal guard before they wake up and his life was set.

Grillby sits back down at his seat where he had been drinking before all of the commotion.  One more drink, just to celebrate.  Next time he has booze it won’t be this cheap shit. 

He'll have a small fortune at his disposal.  What will he even do with that?  Other than buy protection and a new house.  Somewhere in Hotland, or maybe the Capital.  Yeah, the Capital sounds nice.  Somewhere with a good view of the palace, maybe one of those old, abandoned casinos.  Maybe he’ll even open one of them up as a  _ new _ Grillby’s.  Then again, the Capital has always been bad about crime.  Anyone he hires there would be liable to try to kill him and take the money for themselves.

Actually, come to think of it, that is a problem almost anywhere he goes. There aren’t many rich people in the underground who aren’t also very powerful, and it is for a reason.  Those who obtain money and lack the power to defend it can only really buy their own graves.

Grillby swallows his drink.  He can’t forget the original reason he wanted the money.  If having that much meant putting his life in danger then what’s the point?  He needs protection.  Powerful protection.  Say, like someone who can blast a hole through the ceiling without much effort?  Someone who is almost practically a blank slate, who can be manipulated into protecting him?

Grillby puts a hand on his head.  He’s had too much to drink again.  This is a question that is better left for when he’s sober.  Grillby pours the rest of his glass down the sink and stumbles back into his room.  After checking on the pair one last time, he lays down.  He doesn’t plan to sleep the whole night, just long enough to clear his head, though when he next opens his eyes he finds that five hours have already passed and it is time to start the day. 

Swearing loudly, Grillby quickly throws open the closet door to make sure that his prisoners haven’t escaped or worse - that it was all just a dream.  Thankfully in his closet was a sleeping skeleton dog and his brother.  Grillby closes the door back, resolved to buy a muzzle before he goes to work.

One trip to the store later and Grillby has not only a pair of muzzles, but collars and several yards of high quality rope.  He hopes that it is enough to hold the beasts until he can figure out what to do with them.  When he looks back into the small closet, he is relieved to find that both the brothers are still in same place that he had left them.  He fixes the muzzles over the elder's face and locks it, then does the same to the smaller, who has thankfully shifted into his canine form in his sleep.  He fastens the collars around their necks and ties the rope to the coat hooks in the wall.  Their magic is strong, but Grillby is willing to bet that physically, they would be like any other children; and if the beam was the only magic they could do then they wouldn't risk it with the muzzle in the way.

Grillby claps his hands and looks over his handy work.  The larger of the two is beginning to stir, and upon realizing that his mouth is bound, panics.  He squirms, trying to find his footing and nearly choking himself on the collar in the process.

"Easy, easy!" Grillby says, wrapping a hand around the rope holding him to the wall and yanking up.  The pup makes a small strangled yip and settles down.  "Good.  Now,” Grillby bends down to eye level with the pup.  “You two are going to stay here while I get some things figured out.  Be good and I’ll come back with breakfast."

The pup gives him a defiant - but definitely scared - glare, then lays down on his stomach.  Grillby bites back a sigh of relief.  His gamble has paid off.  The kids are powerless now.  The pup seems to have fallen asleep in the short amount of time it took for him to stand, and Grillby chuckles.  They’re almost cute when they’re asleep.  He shuts the door and makes his way back to the bar.

There isn't much to do to get ready, other than sign off on the shipments from the Capital and bring in the liquor.  It's about time, too.  Grillby had been worried that he'd run out of everything, and then what would people come to his place for.  The food?  Ha!  His is some of the greasiest crap in the Underground - only someone who is desperate or stupid would put that shit in their body.

Grillby stretches as he puts down the last box of alcohol, and after one last check up on his "guests", he opens up the bar.

Today is just as busy as the last; people are still hunting down the kids.  There seem to be even more today than there were yesterday, with some coming from as far away as the capital.  Shady criminals are mixed in with the general public, all of them with the common goal of capturing the two that he has in his closet.

Grillby returns to his train of thought from the previous night.  Having the kids is almost as bad as having the money.  With all these people hunting them, if word gets out that he has them there'll be trouble, no doubt.  And with his current status as a weakling he shudders to think what might happen if they all gang up on him.

But if the kids were to  _ protect  _ him…

Grillby smiles behind his counter.  The kids have the strength necessary to take out everyone in this bar and then some.  They would be the perfect protection.  No one, not even the royal guard or the king himself would want to fight against the power that he saw that one display with that single blast.  He wouldn’t have to worry about his customers turning on him - they would have to be worried about  _ him  _ turning on  _ them _ .

Yes, the kids  _ are _ powerful; the only problem is that they are unpredictable.  This can be easily fixed, though, with the proper training.  Kids or not, they’re still dogs, and dogs that love their masters will fight tooth and nail, even to the death to protect them.  Grillby just has to become that master.  It would taken some time, but the payoff would be worth the risk.

The only question is how to go about doing that.

“Wacha smilin’ about, Grillbz?” Jannette slurs.

“Got a new shipment of goods,” Grillby says, putting his thoughts away for the moment.  It would be too early to let anyone know he has the upper hand.

“That mean you got Whiskey?” She asks, hopeful.

“Only if you actually have money,” Grillby sneers.  Jannette sifts through her pockets and comes up with some gold.

“You’re short,” Grillby tells her after counting her money.  

“Aww, you know I’m good for it, Grillbz,” She says, leaning seductively across the counter.  

“I’m not above kicking you out of my bar,” He tells her.

Jannette huffs, crossing her arms angrily.  “Well then, I guess I won’t tell you the big news.”

“News?” Grillby raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Jannette says, leaning in close.  “Someone’s got it out for ya, Grillbz.”

“Who?” Grillby asks, feeling somewhat concerned.  Jannette simply wiggles her glass, jingling the lonely ice inside, and Grillby sighs.  After pouring the Whiskey and waiting for her to take a long drink, she continues.

“Got any old friends, Grillby?  Anyone by the name of Fuku?  Used to live in Hotland?”

“Hmm, not any that I can recall,” And that was the truth.  Grillby has an average memory; if Fuku was a part of his life, she must not have been a big one.

“Well, apparently she’s been asking around about you,” Jannette says after another drink.  “And not in the friendly way.”

“What kind of monster is she?” Grillby asks. There are many kinds of monster, and Grillby can hold his own in a fight against  _ most  _ of them, provided they don’t have any prior advantages, but if it is a  _ water _ or  _ ice _ based monster then… 

“Flame, like you,” Jannette replies and Grillby feels a little relieved.  He’s had enough ice fights for a while.  “Though she’s a bit younger.  Still in high school I think.”

What?

Grillby looks at her, searching for any hint of a joke, then laughs.  “Really?  You think I’m scared of some pissed off teen?”

“Well you didn’t exactly do so well last time,” Jannette replies snarkily.

“Okay, out of my bar.” Grillby takes the glass from Jannette’s hand, much to her protest, and ushers her out into the cold.  Most of the patrons get a kick out of watching the spectacle - Grillby doesn’t see why, since it happens almost every other day.  He guesses it’s just a part of the show at Grillby’s now.

Grillby shuts the door and the crowd goes back to their business.  From then on the day is normal.  Grillby says hello to the royal guard as they come in, enjoys the fight as they go out, and before he knows it, it’s half past noon.  The kids are probably hungry.

He still hasn’t decided whether he wants to keep them or not, but if he does decide to, starving them won’t get them on his good side.

Grillby decides that it’s time for his “lunch break.”

 

\---

 

Sans tugs at the leash tethering him to the wall to no avail.  Papyrus has yet to regain consciousness, and Sans is beginning to worry for him.  After nearly choking himself for the thousandth time, Sans lays down and curls in on himself.

They’ve finally been captured.  He can’t break the restraints, the metal hook the ropes are tied to being firmly attached to the wood, and he can’t shift to use his other magical attacks with the muzzle in the way.  There’s nothing Sans can do but resign himself to wait for The Monster to come back and… do whatever it is he has planed to do with them.  The Monster had said something about a “breakfast” but Sans doesn’t know what that is, and he has a feeling he doesn’t want to find out.

He wonders what the monster wants with them?  Is he going to resume what The Doctor had started, or maybe he’ll just give them back to The Doctor himself.  Does he want to use Papyrus, and if that’s the case, will he terminate Sans as planned?  Will he dissect him first?  Or maybe he doesn’t want them as experiment, but rather as toys for his amusement.  Or maybe it’s something else entirely.

Sans doesn’t know and doesn’t  _ want _ to know.  He wants to be back on the outside, even if it was cold, and they were hungry and tired - anything but being at the mercy of an unknown monster.  

Though, despite drugging them and tieing them up, The Monster hasn’t done anything that bad to them yet… it’s odd and scary and confusing, leaving Sans at a loss for what is coming next.

It would be a little better if he had some idea of where they were, or some light to see his surroundings. Sans can hear noises through the wall.  Loud clanking and laughter unlike anything he's heard before; it scares him.  Wherever he is, there are a lot of monsters nearby - and whenever there are monsters nearby, there’s trouble.

Papyrus begins to stir and Sans immediately sits up, the leash putting pressure on the front his neck once more.  Papyrus notices the restraints as quickly as Sans had, and begin fighting.  Sans nudges his brother reassuringly, unable to talk with the muzzle in the way.  Unfortunately, Papyrus is upset, and Sans knows that when Papyrus is upset, he will not be calmed down.

Papyrus pulls hard against the rope, only pulling back when he realizes he can’t breathe.  Papyrus tries to yip and bark, biting his tongue in the process, and eventually he crouches down and growls at the door.  Sans continues to try to calm his little brother, but mostly he incites him further.

Suddenly, there is a sliver of brightness in front of them, and the door is opened.  Sans has to shut his eyes against the sudden stream of light, trying and failing to put himself in between The Monster and Papyrus.  Papyrus resumes pulling on the leash, now coupled with his attempts to bark at the strange monster.  The Monster sneers.

“Quit that,” he commands, crouching lower.  “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Sans isn’t sure why he cares, unless he needs Papyrus in full health.  The thought makes Sans shiver and he draws away from The Monster, who rolls his eyes at him.

“Coward,” The Monster says.  He reaches for something behind him and Sans starts again, magic flowing through him instinctively.  The Monster notices this as he turns and scoffs again.  “Knock it off.  I’m not doing anything to hurt you.”

Sans doesn’t believe him.  

The Monster sighs and produces two bowls.  They are filled with small white things, topped some kind of meat and with an oblong metal object sticking out of it.  Is it food?  It is far more than what the scientist would give them in the form of little gray pellets.  It is probably poisoned again, Sans decides.  

“Now, I’m going to take the muzzles off,” The Monster tells them softly.  “And you two are going eat.  And if you try anything funny…” The blue flames that make up his hand suddenly shoot up in a display of power.  Sans shrinks back at the heat.  “Got it?”

Sans stays still for a moment, but decides it would be best not to anger The Monster further and slowly nods his head.  

“Good,” The Monster takes a key from his pocket reaches for the contraption covering his mouth and slowly unlocks the straps.  Sans tests his mouth before slowly shifting into his bipedal form.  The Monster keeps his eyes on Sans as he undoes Papyrus’ mouthpiece.  

That was a mistake.

As soon as his mouth is uncovered, Papyrus lunges to bite The Monster.  Sans silently holds his breath as he watches on.  The Monster recoils from his brother’s jaws just in time, then quickly recovers to clamp the restraints back over Papyrus’ mouth.

“Fine.  Don’t eat then,” The Monster spits at him.

Sans looks at the substance in the bowl.  It looks like food, and The Monster  _ did  _ say he wants them to eat.  He pokes it with a finger and sniffs it.  It smells clean, but after last time he definitely doesn’t want to chance it.

“Not gonna eat?” The Monster questions.  

Sans shakes his head, then quietly vocalizes a small, “N-no.”

The Monster sighs and takes a piece of the meat off and pops it into his mouth.  Sans watches carefully as the monster chews the food.  

Sans blinks.

Well, The Monster didn’t die…

And Sans  _ is  _ hungary.

He sighs.  The Monster has them completely trapped; he can make the brothers do anything he wants them to.  If Sans doesn’t eat, The Monster can very well force him to.  Sans has lost his freedom, and now his will to fight.

What else does he have to lose?

Sans takes a handful of the squishy white bits and shovels them into his mouth.  As he is going in for a second scoop, his hand is slapped.

“Use the spoon, idiot,” The Monster snaps at him.

Sans looks at The Monster confused.  What did he do wrong?  Was it a trick - test?  Did he fail?  Will he be punished?  Sans tries and fails to steady his breathing.  Oh no oh no oh no…

The Monster gives a frustrated sigh and picks up the metal object sticking out from the food.  He briskly shoves it into Sans’ hand and Sans stares at it.  What is he supposed to do with this?

The Monster growls and Sans shrinks back.  “That’s a spoon.  You use it to eat.” The Monster snaps “How dumb  _ are _ you?”

Sans doesn’t think The Monster wants an actual answer so he keeps his mouth shut.  He puts the fat end of the ‘spoon’ into the white food and scoops it into his mouth clumsily.  The Monster scoffs and Sans avoids eye contact.

“I’m not leaving ‘till you’re done,” The Monster says.

Sans had expected as much.  While Sans eats, Papyrus whines, obviously wanting to try the food placed before him, but unable with the muzzle blocking his mouth.  After two or three more bits, Sans gets up the courage to speak.  “S-s-sir,” He starts quietly.  “Pa- P-Two… n-needs t-t-to eat.”

The Monster gives him a confused look.  “The other one?”  He gestures to Papyrus.  Sans nods affirmatively.  “Tell him to play nice and I’ll consider it.”

Sans moves a little closer to his little brother.  “D-do as he says, bro,” he whispers, still loud enough for The Monster to hear.  Papyrus gives a miserable whine but nods head; Sans takes it as a yes.  The Monster produces the key and undoes the bindings over Papyrus’ mouth.  To Sans’ relief, Papyrus merely looks on at The Monster with distrust, but makes no move to attack.  Sans isn’t sure how powerful The Monster is, but they certainly aren’t at any advantage right now.

Papyrus soon loses interest in The Monster and goes for the food, not even bothering to shift out of his canine form.  Papyrus scarfs it down quickly, nearly choking several times;  The Monster doesn’t seem to like this, and quickly reaches a hand for Papyrus, who jumps back and growls at the first sign of the invading digits.

“I was just going to tell you to slow down,” The Monster snaps.  “You’ll make yourself sick.”

Sans has noticed that if they eat too much or too quickly after not eating for a while, it tended not to stay down.  Papyrus either doesn’t care or doesn’t understand, because he goes right back to his previous pace.  Sans is too nervous to stop him, so he simply goes back to his food.

It is a while before The Monster speaks again.

“So, you two got names?” The Monster asks after a while.

“I am W-D-S-One,” Sans says meekly.

“That ain’t a name, kid,” The Monster glares and Sans feels the same creeping fear go up his spine.  That was the name that he was always called by before.  What does the monster want?

Sans tries again.

“D-Doctor sometimes c-called m-me S-Sans,” Sans says, feeling meak.  The Doctor had given him the pet name once years ago; Sans had liked it so he took it as his own.  The Doctor later got mad when Sans used it, and he was often punished for it.  Sans wonders how The Monster will react to hearing the name.  To his relief, The Monster simply nods.

“And the other one?” The Monster asks.

“W-D-” Sans starts.

“His name, genius!” He snaps.

“P-p-papyrus, sir,” Sans curls in on himself.  Sans looks down at his food.  He is barely a third of the way finished with it, and yet he is already full.  The food didn’t have much of a flavor, which, after all that Sans and Papyrus have had to eat to survive, isn’t necessarily a bad thing.  The meat had been good, though.  It was unlike anything he had had before, and he liked it. 

“You done?” The Monster asks.  Sans nods, worried that The Monster will get mad he didn’t finish, but too scared to lie.  Thankfully, The Monster doesn’t seem to mind as he takes the bowl back.  Papyrus is still eating, and The Monster waits patiently for him to be done.  Eventually, Papyrus' bowl is empty and The Monster takes it away. 

“Go back to your dog body, kid,” The Monster orders.  Sans obeys without question and the muzzle is fastened back over his face, much to Sans' dismay.  Papyrus’ mouth is also covered, though he doesn’t put up as much of a fuss as before - mostly due to being incapacitated by a stomach ache brought on by the gratuitous amounts of food they just ate.   

"I'll be back soon," The Monster tells the pair, closing the door and leaving the brothers once again in the dark.

 

\---

Grillby is  _ fascinated _ by the children he is keeping in the closet.  They are  _ definitely _ not from around here.  In Snowdin - and most of the Underground, actually - children are kind of protected, despite the general hostility.  A boy is a man at age thirteen, but before that, if they keep their noses clean and they’re parents aren’t in any kind of trouble, the kid is generally treated well by most.  

These kids were obviously not.  Beaten and bruised is to be expected from a pair of wanted kids, sure, but the scarring told a different story.

Maybe they were abandoned?

No, that’s not right.  They’re bodies show signs of  _ years _ of neglect, the kind that comes from constant abuse over  _ years _ .  Plus, it doesn’t explain why The King wants them so bad.  Sure, they’re dangerous, but danger isn’t exactly a new element in the underground.

They’re bodies are a sore sight, though.  They are still quite young, and yet their bodies hold injuries that most adults would shudder to think of.  The elder - Sans, as he’s called - has multiple cracks on his skull and ribs and missing his left canine.  The younger is less damaged, or, rather, the damage seems to be concentrated on his neck where he has several scars, as if someone had tried to slit his throat several time and failed.  There are also branching scars across both of their sternums, as if someone had cut that part of them off and then glued it back on.

And then there is those odd, pseudo names that the kid game him.  W-D-something-or-another?  What is up with that?  And they were obedient to commands, despite feeling he was a threat.  Under normal circumstances Grillby would chalk that up to the fear factor, but this… this is a different kind of obedience.  This is a  _ learned _ behavior.  One that they have done before multiple times in the past.   

Grillby runs a fiery hand through his blue head flames.  This is going to be difficult - maybe he is better off just handing them over to the guard.

No.  No he’s going to try to make this work.  To hell with the money, he’s got what he needs in the closet right there.  Grillby likes working the bar, anyways, he doesn’t need to retire early.  

These kids are valuable, a part of him knows it, and he wants to hold on to them for as long as they remain that way to him.  

First, though, he needs to gain their loyalty.  He’ll start by calling a doctor to take a look at them.  One that he can trust; his own person physician and ‘friend’ of sorts.  Can’t have the kids falling down on him, can he?

Grillby straightens his bowtie and pushes up his glasses, then struts back out into the bar.  He has a plan, a wonderful, amazing plan; and soon, there won't be a thing in the world that can take him down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Shame on me. I have been REALLY bad about updating my fics, haven't I? Sorry, I know you guys hear this a lot, but I had so much work this week and a massive case of writer's block. So I'm so sorry for how long I've been taking. I'll try to be better about this in the future.


	3. Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaccck

_Sans looks around the room.  He is back in his cell and Papyrus is nowhere to be found.  Sans feels a little concern, but mostly he just feels exhausted; when he tries to move his legs, he finds that he can’t, and panic begins to rise.  Did The Doctor do something to him?  He is always exhausted, but he has never been paralyzed outside of examinations and procedures before.  It is disconcerting, but not outright terrifying; Sans has had a lot of experience with the terrifying._

_“As you can see, S-One is much like the newer model.  However, there are many defects that make it unusable.”_

_The Doctor’s voice rings out and Sans finds enough energy to roll his head.  The Doctor stands behind the impenetrable glass wall, a group of eager spectators watching behind him, many of whom are taking notes._

_“Is it alive?” one asks._

_“Of course, though it is not very intelligent.  Think think of it as… a surface dog, or a mouse.  While it is capable of some thought and emotion, it cannot comprehend like we can.  It cannot have thoughts outside of basic urges and physical needs.  In a word, it is insentient.”_

_That’s not true, but only Sans seems to be aware of that fact. As far as The Doctor is concerned, Sans_ is _an animal, and should act and be treated as such.  If Sans shows any signs otherwise, he is punished -_ brutally. _Most of The Doctor’s coworkers have similar feelings, some even going as far as to take pleasure in Sans’ suffering - making procedures longer and rougher just to delight in his screaming.  As long as they don’t damage the test subject, The Doctor doesn’t care.  It’s actually kind of a relief whenever Sans sees The Doctor is the one who will be operating on him.  There is some solace in that The Doctor is normally very cold towards Sans - neither delighting or sorrowing in their pain._

 _This is how it has been all of Sans’ life, and he doesn’t think it will change until the day he dies.  By now even_ he _thinks he’s an animal._

_“So what will you do with this one now that it’s obsolete,” One of the visitors asks dispassionately, looking up from her notepad.  She looks right through him the way one would look at an old piece of equipment.  Sans shivers._

_“Vivisection is my first alternative - if it can survive the process without turning to dust.  There isn’t much else it’s good for other than study,” He tells her.  Sans doesn’t know what a_ vivisection _is, but he knows that if the doctor is planning to do it to him, it’s going to be unpleasant.  “Other than that, it will be terminated by the end of the month.  It’s too dangerous to let live.”_

That _Sans understood._

_He is going to die._

_He is going to die soon._

_Sans tries to push to his feet - to shout at them - to cry for mercy - to do_ something! _But he is stuck in place.  His body is stuck in invisible tar, and the more he struggles the further he sinks.  It fills his mouth and chokes him, making his vision blur and his tongue numb.   In his writhing, he can just make out the next words out of The Doctor’s mouth._

_“If you would like, you can watch the process.  I’m sure it would be very… enlightening.”_

_Finally, the tar breaks._

_Sans screams._

_“NO!”_

_The Scientists are approaching him and Sans tries to get away, struggling as hard as he can just to move his limbs_. _Tears prick his eyes and burn his abused throat.  Hollowed out hands are reaching for him and Sans thrashes harder, screaming._

There is a loud knocking sound.

“Would you shut the hell up!?”

Sans’ struggling cesses instantly, the angry voice triggering a shutdown mechanism drilled firmly into the deepest corners of his brain. He slowly remembers where his is, and his panic and fear subsides slightly.  He's not in _immediate_ danger.  At least not yet.

Sans feels a horrified chill run through his body as he realized that he must have been making a horrible racket in his distress.  He waits anxiously for some kind of punishment, however the door doesn't even open, and Sans assumes the monster has gone away.

Sans rests his head on his paws, unable to return to sleep.  He glances over at Papyrus and huffs out a small breath.  Papyrus' legs are twitching rapidly; he's sleeping deeply with no disruptive dreams.  Sans feels a small pang of jealousy, but it would make sense that his brother would have far more peaceful dreams.  After all, he was subjected to far less than Sans.

Being awake is almost as bad as being asleep, because now Sans has time to think of his future.  The Monster has them secured, and he obviously has plans for them.  The question is what will those plans entail?  If the plans are more pain and torture for the brothers, then Sans will have to find a way to get the both of them out of there as soon as possible. He won't survive too long under that kind of treatment and Papyrus, well, he'll survive but he shouldn't have to.

But, if his plans are reasonable... Would it be so bad to stay here?  The thought hasn't left Sans' mind since they gorged themselves on the wonderful tiny white specs.  If the procedures aren’t as bad as The Doctor, maybe if he heals them after and gives them more decent food…

Sans can’t help the fantasies as they permeate the thick bubble of morbid thoughts surrounding his mind. The Monster treating them gently, feeding them, maybe even letting them out to play a little…It would certainly be better than returning to _him._  

Sans has lived his whole life in captivity.  When he left with Papyrus, his first instinct had been to return.  It’s not that Sans doesn’t crave freedom - he does not know _how_ to be free.  It was almost a relief when the monster chained them up.  It felt… homely.

The door opens again a little while later.  The Monster is dressed in a much more casual attire this time - loose and draping as opposed to the tight coat and tie he had been wearing the last time Sans saw him.  

What grabs Sans’ attention, though, is the pair of white rubber gloves covering The Monster’s flaming digits.  

_White gloves that would tear at his insides while he stared at the ceiling, counting the moments until it would be over.  Oh god he could hear the bones snapping and feel his soul being submerged in acid until he felt like he would die and--_

An involuntary whimper escapes Sans’ throat and he curls in on himself.

“Wake up, brats,” He says, tapping the side of the wall, ripping Sans from his fear-induced fantasy.  Papyrus wakes from his pleasant slumber.  He makes a small yawning noise under the mask, and The Monster leans over to remove it.  Papyrus has a spark in his eye that Sans recognizes from all the times he bit The Doctor.  The Monster seems to recognize it too, and quickly says, “Remember, you play nice and I’ll be nice back.”

When the muzzle is removed from around Papyrus’ maw, he instantly shifts.  He stays close to Sans, eyeing The Monster cautiously.  Sans is next - the dreaded contraption lifted from his face giving him instant relief.  The thought crosses his mind to blast The Monster and run, just incase his kindness runs out or worse - was all an act - but Sans dismisses the thought instantly.  The Monster has proven more powerful and smarter than both of them, like The Doctor.

And Sans remembers just how well attacking The Doctor went.

Sans joins his brother in a bipedal form, sitting together with him in front of the dreaded flame - anxious anticipation bubbling in his stomach.  The Monster quickly reaches down to grab them, then seems to have a thought.

“The two of you follow me,” He orders.  Sans rises to his feet and takes his younger brother in his arms.  It is just like back in the lab, when The Doctor would beckon them to the operation room, or if they were lucky, just the testing room.  Sans would pick Papyrus up so that he wouldn’t fuss.  He knew that his coddling was making Papyrus spoiled (The Doctor never failed to remind him of that) and that’s why Papyrus is so bratty now, but he just can’t help it.  Giving his brother love and attention makes him feel better.

The similarities in the walk through The Monster’s home and the walk through The Lab make Sans uneasy, so he tries to focus on the room around him.  Sans hasn’t seen many bedrooms - or any at all, for that matter - so he doesn’t know what any of the items in the room are, from the small black table, to the odd machine with green-lit numbers on top,  to the centerpiece of the room which was a large, cushy white square equipped with blankets standing on wooden legs.  It is all strange to Sans, and it makes the pit in his stomach turn to a gaping abyss.

They reach a small room off to the side of the bedroom.  The Monster opens the door and ushers the two boys inside.

The room is a sterile white and smooth.  The Doctor always told them that the room has to be this way for testing to be accurate, or so that there would be no contamination when operating.  A shiny metal basin big enough for the pair waits in the center.  The only real difference between this place and The Lab is the small size and the faint smell of flowers in the air.  Sans’ grip around his brother tightens; a sense of security pulses through him as he holds the other child close, though it is not enough to ward the feeling of dread that surrounds him.  He wonders if this will be a test, or if it will be something more… physical.  Judging by the room he’s in, he can only assume the worst.

“Take off your clothes and get in,” The Monster commands.

Sans feels another bite of terror that runs down his neck and to his ribs, but it quickly fades into resignation. Sans slowly places his brother on the ground.  So it will be an examination, then.  Maybe The Monster will be gentle?  Sans doubts it.  He undoes the buttons on his jacket with clumsy motions, prompting a frustrated sigh from The Monster.

“Hurry up,” He snaps, causing Sans to stiffen.  He quickly throws the jacket off and reaches to undo Papyrus.  Sans can’t help but constantly glance over at the impatient flame.  The gloves are what worries Sans the most; The Doctor only wore those when he used the saw and scalpel.  Sans _definitely_ does not want this unknown monster rummaging around in his insides, though he fears he does not have a choice in the matter.

Sans takes a deep breath and removes the last of his brother’s clothing.  It will be just like they’re back in the lab again.  They survived before, they can do it again.

It’s actually somewhat relieving, to Sans’ horror, to be an experiment again - to have somebody else taking control over their lives.  It was horrible not knowing what is going to happen.  The outside world is just too much.  Everything out there is new and scary and strange and it all just serves to confuse and terrify the poor skeleton. Even if he doesn’t like it, he feels he knows what is happening here, and that in and of itself is so much more comforting than just _not knowing._

Finally, he picks Papyrus up again and walks over to the waiting tub.  To his surprise, there is steaming water filling the basin two-thirds of the way.  Sans is at a loss for what to do now.

“Well?” The Monster say, agitated.  “What’s the hold up?”

“T-there’s water,” Sans says pathetically.  

"Of course there's fucking water!" The Monster spits, flames burning a bright azure.  Sans gives a tiny yip and throws himself into the water, splashing some onto the monster, who sizzles and swears.

So water hurts him?  Sans files that information away for later, in case he needs to make a plan to escape.

Sans sits completely still in the burning water.  He's lucky that he doesn't have skin, or else it would have turned red with the heat - though Sans would take scalding water over the scalpel any day.

This is a very unexpected twist on what Sans had thought would be a very basic examination.  Why has The Monster put them in water?  Is it really a test?  If it is, then are they doing well?

Apparently not, as The Monster gives a frustrated sigh and leans down a little too quickly.  Sans reaches out to Papyrus once again for comfort, and The Monster halts his descent.

"I'm just reaching for a towel, kid, relax."

Sans can do no such thing, but he does sit still as The Monster uses a small piece of fabric to wipe down Sans.  He uses the same diligence that The Doctor had used when he cleaned his tables.  Sans realizes that The Monster is cleansing them, but doesn't fully understand why.  When The Doctor had wanted them clean, he would have someone hose them down with icy water from a tap and unless an experiment called for it, he would never clean them himself.

Dread find its way into in Sans' ribs again.

"You got something to say, kid?" The Monster says, noticing Sans' rigid posture.  He avidly shakes his head, fearing The Monster's reaction (and answer) to his question.

The Monster quietly scrubs both of the boys as thoroughly as he could, occasionally putting an odd substance on the cloth before rubbing it against their bones.  It leaves a small trail of multicolored orbs in its wake, much to Papyrus' delight.  Sans' sense of smell is overwhelmed by the scent of flowers he has no name for.  It makes him sneeze.

When The Monster reaches Sans' left arm, he pauses.

"The hell is this?" The Monster says, lifting Sans' arm up to examine it.

"A Catheter," Sans tells him.  The Monster's brows come together.

"Catheter?" He asks.  "Are you sick or somethin'?"

Sans shakes his head.  Why would being sick have anything to do with it?  All experiments have them (at least San and Papyrus do, and that, to the best of Sans' knowledge, _is_ all of the experiments.).

The Monster continues to look over his arm, eyes finally resting on the plate drilled into to back of his hand.  Sans had been able to hide it earlier, but now his hand is in The Monster’s gentle grasp.  Sans feels more exposed under The Monster's confused gaze than he did when he has removed his clothes.

Finally, The Monster removes his attention from the tiny experiment's hand and resumes washing.  Sans lets out a breath he had held subconsciously.  The stress of the situation is making him ill, and the absolute last thing he wants is to lose consciousness in the water.

When The Monster finishes, he orders them out of the tub.  Sans pulls himself away from the now-comfortable temperature of the bath to the cool outside.  He attempts and fails to suppress a shiver that is rattling his bones at an uncomfortable pace.  He removes his brother from the water as well, and Papyrus instantly begins a fit. Sans tries to shush him, but to no avail.  The Monster huffs out a long breath. Sans braces himself for the blow he knows will come from the agitated monster, but The Monster simply picks up a large, fuzzy fabric and wraps it around Sans' shoulders.  Confused, Sans stares at The Monster as he take another off the stack towels and motions for Sans to hand him Papyrus.  Sans is reluctant to give the toddler over to The Monster, but eventually complies.

The Monster wraps Papyrus up in a towel.  Papyrus giggles softly, squirming with delight.  Sans flinches, remembering the way The Doctor would punish them for making those kinds of noises, but The Monster simply looks… conflicted?  He sets the bundle back on the ground and removes the gloves, much to Sans’ relief.

“Dry off and sit down.  I’ll get you dinner in a minute.”

The Monster walks calmly out of the room and Sans collapse into a half-upright pile.  He quietly drags Papyrus to his lap and holds him close to comfort his rapid breathing.  Papyrus squirms playfully in Sans' arms, and eventually shifts to gnaw on Sans' ulna.  Sans doesn't have the strength to stop the teething pup and let's his brother chew at his arm.  Papyrus never bites too hard, even though he does not truly know that if he breaks the bone Sans will die.

Slowly, Sans stands and dresses himself and his younger brother in their old clothes.  Papyrus’ clothing is still from the lab, though the jacket that Sans wears was stolen from a clothesline when he entered the snowy part of the underground.

The sharp sound of knuckles hitting wood fills the room and Sans goes still.

"You two can come out now," The Monster's voice rings.  Sans knows better than to keep someone stronger than him waiting.  He slowly makes his way to his feet and carries Papyrus out the door.  The Monster is once again standing with his deep aqua arms crossed.  There is a wonderful smell permeating the room; Sans still feels full from the last meal, but he hopes that The Monster plans to feed them again.  Two meals in one day was just too enticing a fantasy for him to ignore.

The Monster leads the pair through another door into the room where they were captured.  Residual fear eats at Sans, but he pushes it down and takes a seat at the table where he and Papyrus stayed the other day.  He holds Papyrus close this time, keeping him pressed firmly against his ribs, as if that act alone could protect them both from The Monster moving behind the counter.

Eventually, The Monster returns with more food, this time an off-color, viscous water that took a few seconds to register as substance to Sans.  Another oblong metal - a spoon, as he recalls - is stuck out of the bowl and Sans slowly picks it up like last time, trying to catch some of the water in it.

“Tell the other one to… ya know…” The Monster is looking at Papyrus with an awkward, unreadable expression.  Sans quickly gives Papyrus a little tap and makes the motion The Doctor made when he wanted them to shift.  Papyrus, now with two arms and a normal skull, makes a grab for the bowl.  Sans is able to stop him before empties the contents of the bowl on their laps and attempts to demonstrate the workings of a spoon.

“What are you two?” The Monster asks bluntly.  Sans gives him a confused look.  The Monster doesn’t know?

“we are subjects,” Sans tells him.

“Subjects?” The Monster looks as confused as Sans feels.  

“y-yes,” Sans says meekly.  When The Monster still doesn’t seem to understand, Sans anxiously continues.  “experiments S-One and P-Two, series WG94.”

The Monster’s confusion doesn’t seem to ease, but before Sans can continue with his nervous rambling, he nods.  “So, you two aren’t monsters?”

An icy feeling pulses through Sans’ soul, but he simply nods in affirmation.  “no, we’re not.”

The Monster's mouth twitches, and Sans is at a loss for how to interpret it.  Besides being unfamiliar with The Monster’s personal facial expression and how to interpret them, The Monster is also made of fire, making it hard to even _see_ the expressions to interpret.  It makes Sans uneasy.  

Once again, The Monster continues before Sans can make up for his mistakes.  

“I see,” He says, folding his arms.  “Well then, you two will be staying here.”  Sans had expected as much.  “If you try to make any attempts to flee, or attack me, I will be forced to retaliate.”  Again, nothing new.  “Any questions?”

“n-no,” Sans says quietly.

“And you call me _Sir,_ understand?” The Monster says sternly.

“yes, s-sir.”

Papyrus is finished with his meal, and Sans isn’t far behind.  The Monster stands quickly and exits the room.  Sans quietly wipes Papyrus’ face with the sleeve of his jacket.  Now that the two of them are clean, he realizes out absolutely filthy their clothes had become.  

Sans finds that he’s reached the bottom of his bowl.  He feels a little better now that he’s eaten again - the food seeming to fight away his nervous illness.  His is amazed that he and his brother can even eat this much; that had been more food than they were normally given in a week.  

The Monster returns with a pair of garments in hand.  Sans looks at them confused as The Monster places them in front of him and his brother.

“Get dressed in these,” The Monster commands.  “You’ll be warmer.”

The Monster takes the empty bowls back to the kitchen and washes them.  Sans keeps one eye firmly him as he dresses the other skeleton and dons the new clothing.  It is certainly much thicker than what he had been wearing before.  There were even little fuzzy gloves and scraps of fabric that go around the neck.  He had seen monsters from this area wearing clothing like this before.  Somehow, looking down at his now covered hands, he feels more like a monster than he had ever before in his life.

Maybe it’s because the gloves covered his marks?

Maybe it’s because that’s what monsters wear?

The Monster approaches and Sans stiffens.  If they got clothes like this, what does that mean is coming next?

His question is answered not a second later.

“Come on, kid,” The Monster says, smirking. “We’re going out training.”

 

\---

 

Grillby's eyes dart around, paranoid someone will spot them, as he leads his new charges through Snowdin.

What the _hell_ has Grillby gotten himself into?

First, what exactly _are_ these kids?  If they're not monsters - and they _certainly_ aren't humans - then what are they?  The kid, _Sans_ , he reminds himself, called the two of them "subjects" and "experiments", but that means as much to Grillby as calling themselves by any other word.  The only reason he didn't inquire further was because he could see that the kid didn't know either.  

Second, Grillby had seen injuries of some kind on almost every part of their body, and not in a way that he has ever seen before.  The breaks and scars were perfect - straight lines and boreholes that speckled their bodies at all the most delicate places.

And most disturbingly, what is with the Catheter?  And those things on their hands?  The plates read a series of letters and numbers similar to what the kid had given his name as.  Subjects, the boy had called himself and his brother.  Grillby doesn't think too hard on the matter, so his train of thought is lost before he can even catch glimpse of the connection.

Once as the three are out of the city, Grillby allows himself to relax a tad, but still keeps his senses attuned to the world around him.  The woods are the teens original territory, after all; running into those little delinquents now would be devastating - and quite possibly deadly.

There is a pause in the footsteps behind him.  Grillby quickly glances back; Sans has lifted his young counterpart off the ground and is carrying him behind the flame.  Sans' eyes meet Grillby's and they both quickly look away.  Grillby is very glad he gave the boys the warmer clothes.  Tonight is colder than usual, and it's a wonder they hadn't froze to death on the streets. The gowns they had been wearing were more like thin cloths sewn together.

They are so thin and sickly too.  Grillby knows what skeletons are supposed to look like, and this isn't it.  Their joints aren't supposed to creak so painfully when they move.  Their bones aren't supposed to chip and flake under the lightest of touch.  Their eyes sockets aren't supposed to be so blank and lifeless.  Skeletons are energetic and full of life - but the kid _did_ say they aren’t monsters…

Regardless, these kids look like they haven't seen decent care once in their life - and they _certainly_ haven't had medical attention.  No parent would _ever_ let this happen to their child, and if they did and the village found out they'd be killed.  Do these kids have parents?  Have they ever even _had_ a home?

Grillby puts the questions out of his mind.  Why should he care?  It doesn't matter what these kids' stories are.  As long as Grillby gets what he wants, the kids lives don't matter.

They finally reach the indention - an area in the walls of the underground carved out by a long dried water system.  There is no snow here, the area being almost desolate except for the few trees that have managed to make a home out of the gloomy cove, though mostly it is filled with stalagmites and glowing rocks.  This place is where Grillby learned to defend himself - training day after day to get stronger. He's never brought another monster to his little haven, yet some how it doesn't feel like an invasion to bring the children.  They said they're not monsters, after all.  That must be it.

Grillby stops in the middle of the place and puts his bag down on a large bolder.  The kids look at him expectantly.  Grillby is once again shocked by the children’s complete compliance with everything he says.  They are waiting for their next instruction, and Grillby decides to give it to them quickly before the kids wise up  to his “strong and powerful” act and make a break for it.

“Alright, before we get started, I wanna know how much you two know about fighting?” Grillby says, leaning back against a stalagmite.

Sans’ eyes widen and bink out.  Grillby is scared for a moment that the child is going to attack _him,_ but Sans simply puts Papyrus on the ground and looks morosely at the stone beneath his feet.  “the doctor showed us how to do some fighting…”

“Okay,” Grillby says, ignoring the repeated use of the name _Doctor_ .  “Now show _me._ ”

Sans flinches, but shifts quickly and orders Papyrus to do the same.  Papyrus, now in his dog-like form, lunges at Sans.  Sans perrys and grabs at Papyrus’ ankle, then throws him violently into the cave wall.  Papyrus recovers quickly and is on all four legs in a matter of seconds.  Sans is charging him, but Papyrus is quicker, sending a beam of magic at the older child.  Sans dodges, but only by an inch.  Papyrus rushes him and slams his brother to the ground. Sans topples over to his side, struggling to regain footing, but Papyrus is having none of hit.  Papyrus arches his back and makes to bite his neck.

“Stop!  Enough!” Grillby rushes to separate the two boys.  He grabs a child under each arms and pulls them back to get to his feet, nearly knocking himself over in the process.  Sans quickly goes limp while Papyrus continues thrashing until Grillby drops him.  The child sits on the ground and looks at Grillby with determined eyes.  Grillby is livid.  “I said to give me a demonstration, not kill each other!”

Sans returns to his child form. “Sorry,” he mutters.

Grillby huffs out a frustrated sigh.  Papyrus had almost killed Sans.  Sans had been holding back - probably out of affection for his brother - but it was still much more vicious than what Grillby had been expecting.  What if one of them had dusted the other!  Grillby feels a strange emotion at the thought, and it confuses him, so he dismisses it.

“Okay, listen,” He says, putting Sans on the ground.  He watches for another attack from Papyrus, but the child seems to understand the fight is over.  “I want you two to _spar_ .  Do you know what _spar_ means?”

Sans shakes his head lightly;  Papyrus looks disinterested.

Grillby covers his face with a hand and slowly brings it down.  “ _Sparring_ is when you fight, but try _not_ to hurt the other person. _Got it_?”

Sans nods, but his eyes are still clouded with confusion.  Grillby sighs and takes a stance.  “Sans, come over here.”

Sans walks over to the flame with wobbly legs.  His head is hanging and his arms are limp at his sides.  Grillby fights the urge to roll his eyes at such a pathetic display.  “Okay, Sans, I want you to watch.”  Sans reluctantly tears his eyes away from the ground.  The lights in his eyes are gone, replaced with abstract fear.  Grillby takes a step forward and the boy instantly tenses.  “Now, I want you to hit me.”

The lights return to the boy’s eyes and he looks at him with the most absurd expression, “S-s-sir?”

“You heard me,” Grillby says.  “Show me how you punch.”

Sans looks at his gloved hand as if it is a new and unusual object.  He slowly curls his fingers and rears back.  He hits Grillby’s knee with relatively high strength for his age.  If Grillby’s body was physical, that would have hurt much worse.  Good, the kid knows to go for weak points.

“Good job,” Grillby says, smiling wildly.  “Not it’s my turn.”

Sans only has enough time to comprehend the words as he braces himself for the hit.  Grillby gives a gentle swipe with his leg, hitting the child’s arm with just enough strength to knock him over.  Sans seems to panic and flail for a moment, as if he believes the flame will attack him now that he’s on the ground.  Grillby chuckles warmly at the child’s scrambling, then offers a hand.  The child freezes and stares at the offered appendage with a mix of confusion and trepidation.

“You want up or not?” Grillby says, beginning to lose what little patience he had with the boy.  Sans quickly stands himself up, ignoring the hand completely.  He hangs his head pathetically, and Grillby can’t resist rolling his eyes this time.  “Okay, so you wanna learn how to avoid getting knocked on your ass like that again?”

Sans looks up at him, and it’s the first time he’s made willing eye contact with Grillby.  Sans seems to be silently questioning Grillby, and Grillby sighs hard.  Does this kid need _everything_ explained to him.

“Kid, I’m trying to help you,” Grillby says, leaning against the cave walls.  “If I wanted to hurt you, I would have.  Got it?  So no more looking at me like I’m some human, ‘kay?”  Sans nods slowly, and begins to look down again, but Grillby stops him.  “Eh!  No more of that.  You’re gonna look at me from now on.  And speak when you answer me.  ‘Yes, Boss’ or ‘Yes, Sir.’”

Sans begins to nod again, but stops himself.  “y-yes, b-boss.”

Grillby huffs.  Close enough.  “Okay, so back to the lesson.”

Grillby spends the next two hours just teaching Sans how to block and dodge.  Sans picks up on that fast, though when Grillby asks him to attack the rocks he finds that his shots are wild, powerful, and uncontrolled.  Grillby makes a mental note to train him on that later, when he trusts the kid enough to not kill him on the first shot.  

Sans is still nervous, though training like this he seems almost relaxed.  Not that his suspicion of Grillby has visibly decreased, but rather he seems to be in a ‘zone’ of some kind. Grillby knows that feeling - letting the world fade out, letting just him and his target remain.  Absolute focus.  Like all the problems in the world can’t touch you while you’re busy.

The kid once again shows his obedience.  He never questions an order, never complains, never asks to stop, he just keeps going simply because Grillby tells him to.  Grillby smiles.  This is good.  They are much more well behaved than the brats he’s seen other people have.  Grillby feels an odd sensation stir in his chest - he must have over exerted himself on that last set.

While Sans is very obedient, that doesn’t translate into enthusiastic or a good learner.  He is sloppy, and often has to be told and shown things several times before he figures out how to do them on his own.  Grillby does end up losing his temper once - his flames singing one of the scattered trees.  Sans and Papyrus rush back and hide behind a pair of boulders, and it takes several minutes of coaxing to get them to reveal themselves.

Papyrus mostly entertains himself with the rocks on the ground, though occasionally Grillby tries to let Papyrus join in on the lesson; he is definitely too young to start fighting for real.  If he got into a real fight he would probably be dust before his opponent even started.  Not that Grillby cares, he reminds himself.  He is not going to get emotionally attached to these two.  They are just tools.  Nothing more.

“That’s enough,” Grillby says after a particularly draining exercise.  “We’ll pick back up tomorrow.”

Sans nods and takes Papyrus into his arm.  Grillby feels annoyed.  How old is that kid? Four, five at most?  Certainly too old to be held.

“Put him down,” Grillby says.  “He can walk on his own.”

Papyrus seems almost thankful as he is let down.  He stands well enough on his own, though his walking is somewhat wobbly - probably from lack of practice. Grillby leads the pair back through the forest.  It’s slow with Papyrus on the ground, but neither Grillby nor Papyrus could stand for Sans’ coddling.

It must be almost dawn on the surface, Grillby guesses.  The Underground doesn’t have a day and night cycle, though from running the bar for so many years, Grillby’s internal clock is attuned enough for him to base his time judgments on it.  When he gets back to the town, he will have to be careful not to be seen with the kids.

Although, that may be a problem for right now, as Grillby hears footsteps and voices in the distance.  He curses under his breath, recognising them instantly.  Before he can open his mouth to warn the boys, the local teens round the corner.

Snowdrake was in the middle of a story, but quickly cuts off when he catches sight of the flame and two children.  Sans takes Papyrus’ hand and inches behind Grillby, much to his disappointment.

Slowly, Snowdrake’s face turns from surprise to delight.

“Oh, _score!”_ he shouts.  “We got Grillby _and_ the cash kids!”

Ice cap, Monster Kid, and Chilldrake all smile just as wild.

“We’re gonna get some _revenge_.”

“And the money.”

“Spilt it ten, sixty, twenty?”

“Hey!  Why do I only get ten?”

“Cause you’re the youngest, duh!”

Grillby quickly steps back.  He looks out the corner of his eyes at the children.  Sans has shifted and taken a defensive stance in front of Papyrus.  The obedient child from before has been replaced with a determined beast.  Grillby smiles.   _That’s_ what he wants to see.

“Sans,” Grillby whispers.  Sans looks up at him.  Grillby gives a decisive nod.  “Attack.”

That is all the motivation the kid needs.  He lunges at the closest monster and rips into his leg.  The teen gives a earsplitting screech, and the others begin to attack.  Grillby watches as Sans struggles to taken down a pair that is trying to double team him.  Grilby is enraged.  There's no way that Sans can fight them both.

Well if they're not going to fight fair…

Grillby sends out a wall of blue flames, burning the teen behind Sans, giving him time to fire his blaster at the teen closest to him.  It nearly blows a hole through his chest, too, and Grillby can tell his hp is dangerously low.  Yet instead of giving the killing blow, Sans just stands there.

“Finish him!” Grillby calls to the frozen child; Sans’ bones remain planted firmly on the ground, though Grillby notices a slight shake in them.  “Sans!  Do it now! That’s an order.”

Too late.  The teens have had enough time to recover and retreat back to the town.  Grillby lets out a slew of swears.  Sans rushes to Papyrus, and Grillby can see the thought of escape manifest in Sans’ eyes.  He creates a right of azure flames around the pair; it's not enough to stop Sans if he tried to get past them, but it did scare him enough to give him pause.  Sans quickly cowers around Papyrus as Grillby stomps forward.

“What the _fuck_ was that!?” Grillby shouts.  There are tears in Sans’ canine eyes, and it just serves to sicken and incite the flame further.  “Change back.   _Now.”_

Sans slowly lets his bones back to their original, child-like structure.  He sits on the ground in front of his brother, shaking - and Grillby _knows_ it's not just from the cold.

He quickly leans forward and grabs Sans’ coat enough to lift the emaciated skeleton off the ground.  Sans yelps pitifully and Grillby is tempted to knock his lights out right then and there.  “Look at me!”  Sans shakes his head, and Grillby’s flames burn hotter than they ever have.  Sensing the head, Sans slowly turns his head back to meet the eyes of the fuming monster.  “Now I want to know _exactly_ why you didn't _dust_ those brats just now.”

“I- I- I-” Sans stutters, looking panicked.  His eyes have manifested a ruby tint, glowing bright enough to illuminate the surrounding area.  Grillby can see the red beginning to pool around his eyes, and it doesn’t take him long to realize that Sans is crying.  Grillby can feel a ghost of anger in his stomach at such a strong display of weakness, but mostly he feels empty. An emotional hole has opened up in his chest and all of the anger drains out like hot air escaping a balloon.

Suddenly it’s as if Grillby is standing outside of his own body, watching the events unfold.  He sees his own enraged features and the small, abused child’s tears, and the last of his rage quickly snuffs.

He puts Sans back on the ground, and for a moment, he numbly wonders if the kid is going to make a break for it.  It seems Sans is wondering the same thing, though he eventually seems to decide against it.  He hangs his head and pulls Papyrus closer to him for comfort.  Papyrus doesn’t like it, but doesn’t fight.  The proverbial hole in his chest seems to have robbed Grillby of his energy as well, because he doesn’t even have the strength to roll his eyes.

“Let’s go,” Grillby mumbles.  The three continue their way back to town, not speaking a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the wait on this one, guys. It won't happen again. I entered a contest recently and I have been focusing all of my efforts into that. I got last place, in case anyone's wondering. Serves me right for trying. (jk Imma try _harder_ next time)
> 
> So now I'm back to finish my fanfictions. Hurreh!
> 
> (PS. To the person whom I promised to release this chapter on Sunday... well, I never said _which_ Sunday.)


	4. Hopeless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So I know I'm late, but I've been working on another story that I actually have finnished and am uploading right now. It's an Underfell x Underswap crossover called "The Way Back Home". Please go check it out by clickin' on my name.
> 
> On a side note: I'm having so much trouble getting this fic to update I'm not even joking. I don't have this problem with any other fic but with this one eveytime I go to the Undertale tag it's nowhere to be found!!

“...So the old man has those two demon mutts with him, and he tells ‘em to dust us!”

There are gasps around the campfire. One of the teens, a newcomer to the circle, snorts rudely. She’s dressed head to toe in black and red, face covered by her dark jacket. Only a faint green glow emanates from the hood.

“How’d you defeat them?” She asks darkly.

“We didn’t” The youngest of the group says.

“Then how are you not dusted?”

“Apparently the kid ain’t too keen on killin’,” Snowdrake says. “He shot us down but wouldn’t finish the job. Lucky too. He’s one powerful pup.”

“So where’d ya think the old man went?” she prompts again.

“Dunno, don’t care,” Icecap says. “As long as he has those kids with him I ain’t messin’ with ‘im.”

There are noises of agreement all around.

“Good.”

All of the teens turn to the source of the familiar voice. Many of them scatter, but bright blue flames pick up to circle around the house and the children are securely trapped in their burning hideout. As the flames die down to a calm red, Grillby enters the shack fully, looking to the young monsters. They are panicking, frantically looking around for any signs of any others.

“Well look at that,” Grillby says, letting his own flames fuel the fire as he slowly paced across the room. “It seems you kids are in a bit of a hotspot, hmm?”

Snowdrake fluffs up indignantly, then spits, “We don’t want any trouble, old timer, just let us go and -”

Grillby leans down to the teens eye level hands in his pocket, “And you’ll what?” He sneers dangerously.

Snowdrake is shaking, and the other teens have taken to desperately trying to smash the windows, only causing more oxygen to flow into the building, helping the flames to grow dangerously warm. Snowdrake didn’t take his eyes off of Grillby, but there were tears forming in them, and honestly it made Grillby feel good to give that little shit what for.

“We’re sorry, okay!” He shouts. “We- we won’t bother you again, promise.”

“Of course you won’t,” Grillby says calmly, returning to full height. “Burned alive doesn’t exactly leave much room to do much, does it?”

There is a scream from someone in the crowd of teenagers and Grillby once again feels a large wave of satisfaction at the sound. He turns around and begins making his way to the wall of flame, passing through as easily as any other being would walk through water.

“Wait!!!” Snowdrake screams and Grillby listens patiently, still standing in the walls of flame. “We’ll do anything! Please, come back! Help us!”

Grillby smiles and returns to the small room. There is a tangible sense of relief in the air, along with a thick, black smoke that was slowly choking the teens. Grillby makes his way over to the group, which has convened in the middle of the room in an attempt to avoid the hotter flames at the edges. Some of the older members are holding down the younger in attempts to keep them from the smoke in the air.

Grillby chuckles a little, making sure that the sound was just loud enough to echo over the roars of fire around them. Grillby grabs Snowdrake by his collar and drags him to his own height. Snowdrake yelps and looks at him with pleading eyes.

“Never, ever, fuck with me again, kid.” Grillby says, his voice dangerously quiet. Then, throwing their leader harshly to the ground, he addresses the group, “And you kids tell no one about what you’ve seen, got it?”

Snowdrake nods furiously and Grillby shoves him to the ground again. He then raises a hand and commands the flames to recede from around the broken door. The teens leap to their feet and rush out, dragging the unconscious and wounded behind them.

Grillby laughs again and lets the door seal back. He didn’t really need to leave just yet; it is actually a comfortable temperature in here. Why the flame ever settled in Snowdin is beyond even him sometimes.

He casually strolls out of the blazing home, picking up the few canisters of fuel that he had doused the house’s foundation in barely ten minutes ago and carrying them with him. Grillby wishes he had more arms as the small canisters kept toppling over. The boys’ company would have been appreciated, but if he wants the teens’ silence, he needs them to fear Grillby, not just the boys.

Plus, he is still somewhat mad at Sans.

Grillby wouldn’t have to be doing any of this if the kid had just done as we was told and killed the brats. Then again, even Grillby didn’t want them dead. They were annoying and even dangerous at times, but the outcry and backlash from killing three members of the growing gang would definitely have had consequences.

Grillby shivers in the early morning air and takes a drink from one of the canisters, emptying what’s left of the yellow liquid before throwing it carelessly into a street dumpster. This outcome would be best, anyways. The teens were scared of him now, not just his… weapons. This should have been his plan right from the start, Grillby reflects briefly - he didn't even really need the brats this time.

He shrugs. It’s fine though. The kids will have more opportunities to earn their keep.

Though he is still mad at Sans for disobeying, even if he had been right in doing so. He was right for the wrong reasons. Sans didn't spare them for any practical reason, he did it just to be nice, or maybe he was just scared. Both attitudes are equally dangerous in the underground - Grillby will probably have to beat it out of him

Not physically, of course. With as weak as they are they certainly couldn't handle being hit. And Grillby certainly doesn't want the kids to get seriously injured… because then they wouldn't be able to protect him.

Grillby slowly pushes open the door to his bar and almost instantly begins tidying up. He has to open in less than ten minutes, and he hasn’t had a moment’s sleep. It’s been awhile since he pulled an all-nighter like this. How many years has it been? Maybe that’s why people thought he was going soft.

Grillby smiles, unstacking his chairs.

He isn’t soft. He’s the toughest monster in the underground! He should be feared; and not just by those dumb teens, but by those brats he has chained up in his closet as well! How dare they defy him!

But the look in Sans’ eyes when…

Grillby shakes his head, the ambition draining from him. No. Right now he needs to stay alive. That’s all he needs to worry about. And to do that, he needs those kids alive and well. Which also means that they’re probably going to want to eat soon, as Grillby didn't have time to give them anything before locking them back in the closet.

Grillby sighs again. It looks like he’s going to have to open a few minutes late.

\----

Sans shivers in the corner of small room. The leash and muzzle had been wordlessly returned to the pair when The Monster (Grillby, as he is apparently called, though The Monster just seems more appropriate) roughly pushed them into the room, muttering incoherently the entire time.

Sans knew it was useless to struggle, so the moment they were left alone, he curled up miserably. The return of the muzzle was unnecessary, as all thoughts of escape have been purged from Sans’ brain. Even though The Monster was angry, the idea of facing the other monsters in the village terrified Sans even more.

Now what is going to happen to them?

Papyrus, seemingly unaware of any danger the pair may be in, is on his back and toying with the chain connecting them to the wall. A knot grew in Sans’ chest and slowly he felt anxious pressure built up. What if The Monster decides to take out his anger on Papyrus? Sans remembers the many times the Scientist would threaten to take Papyrus away from him - mostly after Sans would fail a test - due to his care for his brother.

What if The Monster blames Papyrus? Sans doesn’t know how to live without his brother. He can barely remember the time before he had Papyrus. What he does recall is blurry and grey, lacking in any depth. Just tests and examinations and operations… except back then he simply complied without thought. He didn’t even really have thoughts back then. His brother awoke something in Sans when he was introduced to the small skeleton. Sans started caring what was happening around him, what was safe and what was painful. He would share his limited life experiences with his younger brother and teach him what little he knew.

Without Papyrus, Sans doesn’t know what would have happened to him – or what would happen to him if he was taken now.

Sans’ tries to calm his breathing, but that is as useless as tugging on the restraints, so he just lets himself dissolve into panic. The Doctor was always impassive in his research, but cruel in his punishments. He knew exactly where and how to break the little skeleton, and nothing could or would stop him from utilizing every horrendous torture method at his disposal. Sometimes he would even leave Sans with the other scientists and let them test out any number of dark fantasies they had on the young child. As long as he was not returned in an urn, The Doctor didn’t care what they did. It only happened twice, because after the second time Sans had vowed it would never happen again. It still haunted his mind, though, painting realistic images of the events in the back corners of his mind.

But that was all in the past. What matters now is what this monster will do. The cruelty of the scientists is Sans’ only experience on which to base his predictions for the future. The Monster never actually told Sans why he wants them, but Sans can easily guess from the events of the night before that he wants them as fighters of a sort. Sans can live with that. That means that he can’t hurt them too much physically without decreasing their value to them.

But there are other ways to get retribution.

Sans eventually lies down and falls into an uneasy sleep.

_Sans dreams of a woman. She is smiling as he begs and screams for her to stop, for her to do something, anything else. She laughs and mocks him, and never relents. He has feathers in his mouth and a sick feeling in the pit of his soul._

When the door opens, the icy tendrils that had run their way through Sans solidify and he has to force himself to face the towering inferno. The Monster looks down at him with a very… unreadable expression. Sans wills his eyes to meet that of the monster standing before him. He is surprised to find that he sees none of the hatred from before written on his features. Instead there is a blank, impassive look that bores deep into Sans’ core. It is the same one the scientist would always wear before ushering him into the testing chamber.

Sans somehow keeps his breathing steady under The Monster's stern gaze, though even he knows that his legs are wobbling. The Monster keeps his eyes locked firmly on the child, until finally he bends over to unlock Sans from the wall. To Sans shock, The Monster unhinges the chain from the top rather than at the collar. Sans quickly realizes why as he is silently lead out of the small room, leaving his brother’s unconscious form behind. Chained and muzzled, Sans has no choice but to follow the flame into the next room. It's the large, open room from before. The one that would fill with people when Sans was locked up. Sans vaguely notices that there is no one but the two of them in the room.

That's strange. Normally the Doctor would have two or three others with him when Sans was punished.

The Monster bends over to Sans and slowly removes the muzzle holding his mouth. Instead of attacking, as The Monster’s posture obviously suggests he thought Sans would, Sans quickly barked, “am i in trouble?”

The Monster stares at him for a moment and Sans feels his throat constrict with utter terror. Sans is beginning to wonder if The Monster can understand dog speak when he finally answers:

“Yes.”

Sans’ breath hitches. Of course he's in trouble. He disobeyed a direct order and caused the enemy to get away. Sans realizes his bones are rattling again as he meekly squeaks out a frightened, “o-oh.”

The Monster glares at him angrily, yet all he does is stand and turn towards the kitchen. Sans sits patiently in dread. So he is going to get in trouble. Maybe he can still sneak away. He'd have to get Papyrus first, though. He just can't survive without his little brother.

The Monster is carrying something into the back room. It looks like food. So maybe he's going to feed Papyrus again? That's good. Sans had feared that the continuous food would stop, but was glad to find that at least Papyrus would eat again. Maybe it was just because of the extreme exercises but Sans found himself hungry again, despite never having had regular feeding like this before in his life.

Sans yelps when something is roughly placed in front of him. It's another bowl. Sans slowly shifts forms to examine it. It's a lumpy brown mixture, but the smell is overpoweringly sweet and Sans quickly begins eating before The Monster can change his mind and take it away.

The Monster leans back and watches Sans, expression still unreadable.

Sans desperately wants to ask what his punishment will be, but speaking out of turn would only make things worse for him. His body is trembling so badly that he can’t get the spoon in his mouth anymore, and his stomach suddenly feels very tipsy.

“Kid?”

Sans yips and meets the flame’s eyes. The Monster has knelt down and is only inches from his face. Sans tries to back away, but only ends up on the heels of his hands.

“You know why you’re in trouble?” The Monster asks slowly. Sans’ breathing picks up a little but he slowly finds it in him to nod. The Monster continues, his voice too calm for its inflection. “I want to know exactly why you didn't blast those kids.”

Sans hunches and hangs his head. He tries to turn his head away, but a flaming hand rests under his jaw, locking him in place.

“Sans.” he says dangerously.

“i- i don’t… i don't…” Why is the monster asking him? Why can't he just punish him and get it over with?

The flame’s hand tightens on his mandible and Sans finds his voice.

“i was scared.”

The Monster looks at him skeptically.

Sans feels his magic pulsing faster and his good eye must be glowing because the ground is tinted light red.

The Doctor is watching. Sans lets loose another devastating blow from his blaster form. His body aches from exhaustion and fight, but twitching the monster at the other end of the hall is still at 1 HP. Sans tries again and again, until finally his knees meet tile and Sans is barely conscious as the Doctor slams his foot into his ribs. Over and over and over.

The Monster is waiting.

“i… i can’t k-kill,” Sans says finally. The Monster looks enraged. Sans flinches back as The Monster pulls him forward. With nothing else he can do, Sans slams his eyes shut and braces himself. But instead of a blow, there is a light hiss.

“You. Can't. Kill?”

Sans can feel the heat of The Monster's rage burning his bone, but finds it in him to nod. The Monster roughly throws the kid to the ground, than stands back.

“The fuck does that mean?”

Sans stares at the flicking blue, the flames turning brighter than usual.

“i c-can only do one damage a hit,” Sans tries to explain.

“Bullshit,” The Monster spits. “I saw you attack those kids. That wasn't one hit.”

Sans looks down, “i can do a lot of damage, but only until the enemy is at one hp, then… it's hard for me to do anything…” The Monster is looking at him skeptically; Sans swallows thickly, saying after a long silence , “...and i only have one hp.”

The Monster stares at Sans, glasses falling part way down his nose. Sans tries to quell the stirring fear in his abdomen. If he was right and the monster wanted him as a fighter, then this was it. He would be completely useless - just like he was to the scientists. There would be no reason to keep him at all, but what would The Monster do with them? San could handle going back to the streets, but The Monster could very easily send them both back to The Doctor. There is also the possibility that he'll just kill them outright…

“You only have one HP?”

“y-yes, boss.”

“Is the other one... like that too?”

Sans looks up at The Monster with wide eyes. What does he say? He’s already doomed, but Papyrus might have a chance. He was, after, meant to replace Sans. Papyrus is a better version of himself - a perfected one. Sans take a deep breath.

“no,” Sans says, “his attack is lower than mine, but consistent.”

“And his HP?”

“twenty?” Sans guesses.

“I see,” The Monster looks as though he’s contemplating something and Sans stares at his feet. It's done. Whatever happens now is out of his hands.

\---

Grillby looks at the small boy. He seems to have curled in on himself again, trying to make himself smaller, as if to disappear. It actually makes sense now. This kid is completely useless. Normally if a parent found out that their child was this defective they'd put them out of their misery. It would be the merciful thing to do. This one must have just gotten dumped on the streets when they found out.

But why the other child? Unless Sans is lying - which is a distinct possibility - there would be no reason to dump a perfectly healthy toddler in the middle of a freezing town.

Something about that rubs Grillby the wrong way. It’s a dangerous world out there, and if that kid with those stats met the wrong guy they could have easily been abducted and abused horridly. The fact that there would be a parent out there who would willingly abandon their child like that is just… amazing.

Grillby shakes his head. The kid isn’t powerless or weak. He’s proven that. Even if he really can’t deliver the final blow, Sans has certainly proven that he can at the very least defend himself and his brother. It’ll just be a matter of using both boys. Having Sans weaken and Papyrus kill.

Although… selling the kid to the guard was also still an option.

Grillby puts his fingers on his temples and presses, trying to alleviate the burning headache that is pulsing in his brain. These kids really are almost more trouble than they’re worth.

“b-boss?”

Sans is looking up at him with expectant, fear-glazed eyes. Grillby lowers his hands and sighs.

“Why the hell does the Guard want you, kid?” Grillby snap and Sans flinches back, shaking his head. Grillby’s temper flares and he grabs at the front of Sans’ shirt. He lets out strangled cry, as if trying and failing to keep quiet. “You’re not going to tell me?”

Sans’ eye widen and he shakes his head adamantly. Grillby presses his face in closer and Sans pushes back, falling flat on his back.

Before Grillby can lose his temper fully, Sans’ meek voice speaks up.

“w-what is the g- guard?”

Grillby leans his head back and groans. Who the hell in the Underground doesn't know what the guard is? The kid is scrambling back, pulling his knees up to his chest. Grillby puts a hand on his head, removing his glasses with the other. Finally, he glares down at Sans.

“The guard works for the king. There ain't many rules in the Underground, but if you break one they come and drag your ass to the king,” Grillby says. “So my question is: why does the guard give a shit about some 1HP lowlife?”

Sans looks at him for a moment, then his gaze drifts back to the ground. He is fiddling with the hem of his shirt, and Grillby slams his hand against the wall, partly in anger and partly to get the child's attention.

Sans flinches, then begins slowly. He mutters something, but it's too low for Grillby to hear. He is about to berate him again for talking so quietly when Sans repeats himself automatically. “i- we- we escaped…”

Grillby looks at Sans curiously. “Escaped? From what?”

Sans is looking anywhere but towards the blue glowing flame. Sans shook his head, eyes clenched. Grillby is ready to strangle him. Talking to this kid is worse than pulling teeth. Grillby backs up a bit, trying to calm himself enough to handle this.

Finally, Sans’ quiet voice breaks through.

“please… please don't send us back.”

Grillby looks back to the child in shock. His eyes are clenched tight and small, choked sobs are escaping his mouth. It's the first time the child has shocked Grillby into silence, because it's the first time Grillby has actually seen a kid when he looks at Sans. He takes a small step back and looks at Sans unsurely, but the child continues.

“kill me instead. i can’t go back… please… just kill me!”

Grillby’s glasses slip out of his hand and clatter on the floor. The wire frame crashing against the hardwood is almost deafening, only begin drowned out by the sound of the child’s choked sobs.

Grillby stares, completely at a loss. He’s heard people plead before - back several years ago they’d plead to him like that - but to hear it from someone so young. Grillby feels the question burn on his tongue - where are you from? - but he lets the question go. The less he knows, the better, he decides.

Grillby crouches down to Sans’ level; the skeleton has already shut his eyes tight, as if he’s fighting back tears. Grillby puts his hands on his shoulders and Sans flinches hard, but slowly opens his eyes and meets Grillby’s. The monster watches as two bright red tears streak down his face.

“Kid, look. Let's work together, okay?” Grillby says. “You help me, I'll help you.”

Sans looks lost for a long while, then slowly nods. “w-what do you want me to d-do?”

Grillby blows out a huff of air. Of course the kid gets straight to the point.

“Just… look kid, I'll keep you around as long as you do exactly what I say, when I say it. Just remember who's in charge and there won't be any problems.”

Sans face flashes with a hint of fear, and Grillby has the familiar sensation of dread that the child would simply bolt, but then Sans’ expression morphs into one of acceptance. He nods slowly and looks away. Grillby runs a hand down his face.

Pulling teeth.

“So, we’re clear?” Grillby asks once more, and Sans nods. “I want to hear you say it.”

“y-yes, boss,” he stutters. Grillby ushers Sans back to the closet. Papyrus has long since finished his food and curled up asleep. Sans tries and fails to hide a look of dismay as Grillby holds out the muzzle.

“If you're good all week, I'll consider not putting on at night.”

Sans gives him an oddly hopeful look and shifts without complaint. He curls up next to Papyrus and Grillby leaves the pair to their nap.

\---

Grillby is more thankful than he'd like to admit that no one mentions the skelechildren or the mysterious house fire in his bar. Granted, it's suspicious that there isn't a peep out of the usual riffraff, but that just means that those who have heard the rumors are smart enough not to challenge him.

And rumors are good. They keep people from messing with you and trying to kill you. Embellished rumors are even better, making people fear you for no reason at all. Grillby has no reason to be upset with a few rumors -

\- that is, until the dog squad hears about it.

It’s just a little after the lunch break when they come in. The squad’s absence at breakfast was very much noted by the bartender, however Grillby had assumed - and hoped - it would have been due to some other incident in Snowdin.

“What can I do for you?” Grillby says politely.

“We’ve gotten some strange reports, Grillby.” Doggo says, squinting at him. Grillby’s grip around the glass tightens

“Strange?” Grillby says, struggling to keep his voice even, “How so?”

“Nothing you need to worry about if they ain’t true.” Dogamy says, “Will you let us look around?”

“Of course,” Grillby says casually, placing the glass with the others, “I’ve got nothin’ to hide.”

The dogs sniff around the room, and Grillby leans back against the bar, feigning nonchalance. It wasn’t a matter of if the dogs found the kids but when and what would Grillby do then. He taps his fingers lightly against the cold surface of the countertop. The kids are locked up tight - there will be no time to unchain them to fight, and even then there’d be no guarantee victory, especially since Grillby has yet to work out the kinks of Sans’ no-kill problem.

And why couldn’t those damned teens keep their fucking mouths shut? When Grillby gets his hands on them, they’re going to wish he’d let them burn in the house fire.

If he makes it out of this, that is.

Grillby should just confess.

Yeah, that’s the way. Grillby has already scared those kids half to death (and if not, then he’s going to put the fear of the angel into their hearts after all this is over) and even if he doesn’t get the reward money, he might can avoid being arrested or killed by just telling them that he was going to hand them over anyways.

Grillby swallows. If he hands the kids over, he can put this whole nightmare behind him. Things can go right back to the way they were…

kill me instead. i can’t go back… please… just kill me!

Sans pleas echo in Grillby’s head, as if he is still saying them. Grillby’s fists tighten against the edge of the bar. What happened to those boys to make them like this?

Grillby sighs. It’s too late to tell the guard now, he decides. They would think it suspicious that Grillby didn’t want to say anything earlier… they may just arrest him anyways.

The guard makes their way through the bar, and finally into Grillby’s little living space. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Grillby begins charging his magic. There’s a little ghost of emotion at the idea of killing the handful of people who were friendly to him on a regular basis, but it doesn't faze Grillby much anymore. It's kill or be killed. That's the motto he's lived by his whole life - hell, everyone lives by it down here. So it doesn't matter if a few people die.

So long as Grillby can keep the things that matter most safe -

\- Himself

Grillby watches as they sniff around, and waits for them to find his little secret. Greater Dog seems to be investigating something interesting under the bed, but quickly ignores it when Dogaressa calls him over to the closet door. Grillby can feel his attack rising.

The dogs open the door.

But there's nothing there.

For a moment, Grillby is too confused to even speak. The kids are gone. Just…gone. He can't tell if he's angry, or relieved, or something else entirely, but he doesn't have time to really feel anything as he is slammed against the bedroom wall.

“The fuck is this!?” Doggo barks.

“A closet.” Grillby snips. “It's where we civilized people put our clothes.”

Grillby looks over Doggo’s shoulder to see Dogamy and Dogaressa holding up the leashes and muzzles. Shit. Even though the kids are gone, the evidence is still there.

Fuck.

Grillby has to think fast and think now; lucky, this wouldn't be the first time he has had to use a quickly lie to avoid consequences.

Grillby wrestles himself free of Doggo’s grip, nearly pulling the arm out of socket in the process. He pushes past to the Guard Dogs holding the leashes and snarls. He yanks them from their hands defensively

“What does a flame monster need with leashes and muzzles, Grillby?”

The dogs are all glaring at him intensely, a personal distaste for the items apparent.

“I have a personal life, Dogamy.” Grillby says nonchalantly. “I don't ask you about you and your wife’s activities, though I am sure they are in much worse taste than mine.”

That last comment earned Grillby a punch to the face. He slumps to the ground, hand reaching up to his jaw, thankful for the flames covering the bruises that would surely form on his core.

“You think we’re stupid?” Doggo snaps, making a move for the slumped flame. Grillby feels himself being lifted off the ground.

“Not stupid, just misinformed.” Grillby says, brushing himself off, “Obviously you dogs have never seen a leash as anything other than a controlling device. It can be so much more.”

The dogs look at Grillby extremely judgmentally, and even Grillby has to fight to keep a straight face through all of this. To his relief, though, the dogs eventually snarl and walk off, muttering to themselves about Grillby’s apparent “sick habits.” Only Dogaressa stops by the door, holding the leash seductively and gives Grillby a little wink. He’ll have to deal with that later, he supposes.

When they are gone, Grillby slams a fist against the wall. Dammit! The kids are gone. The kids are… okay, calm down. It’s not that big a problem. He doesn’t need those kids anyways, even though he thought he had finally gotten through to the small skeleton. They’ll probably go out on their own and forget about him, or die, or get captured, and there is no way this will affect him negatively at all.

So why does he still feel so nervous?

Grillby is snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of a quiet whimper. He takes his hand off of his head and slowly approaches the sound. It is coming from under the bed.

Grillby peers under to find a shivering Sans clutching desperately to his unconscious brother. His back is pressed against the wall and his eyes are staring forward sightlessly. Grillby has to bite back a sigh of relief. The boys are still here.

“Get out from under the bed, kid.” Grillby says quietly, but Sans shakes his head. Grillby knows he should feel frustrated, but he is simply too emotionally exhausted to. “Kid…”

“d-don’t... d-don’t… i p-promise i’ll…” Sans isn’t making any sense, and Grillby is starting to debate crawling under the bed and dragging him out, despite the dust he would undoubtedly get on his knees.

The shaking coming from every bone in the skeleton is enough to wake the younger brother. Papyrus stretches and yawns. When he sees Grillby, he rushes forward to his arms, despite his brother’s protests.

Grillby smirks. At least one of them likes him.

“Come on, kid.” Grillby tries one more time. “The sentries are gone. You’re fine.”

Thankfully, Sans seems to come to his senses, and combined with the motivation of seeing his little brother with the flame, he crawls slowly out of his little safe space. Sans, now out from under the bed, hugs his knees.

Now there are new problems to deal with, like how in the hell is he going to lock these kids up now that his ‘equipment’ has been taken. Not that it really matters, Grillby reflects suddenly, since the children were already able to escape.

He eyes the child for a moment.

“How’d you get under the bed?” Grillby asks. “How did you get out of the closet?”

 

Sans shakes his head. “i-i don’t know.”

Grillby narrows his eyes and Sans quickly stutters out, “i r-really don’t- don’t know. i swear! i heard s-someone come in the room and i - i was scared so I grabbed p and i just...” Sans trails off, shivering.

Grillby thinks for a moment. Could it be teleportation? It’s not unheard of for monsters, just very, very uncommon - then again, these kids are hardly ordinary. If Sans can, in fact, teleport then there is truly no way to keep him contained. Grillby sighs, hand on the bridge of his nose. This could not possibly get any more complicated.

Sans seems to take this as a sign of anger towards him, as he backs up and apologizes repetitively. He’s pulled Papyrus into his lap and is holding him there, despite his brother’s desperate struggles to escape the too tight hug. “please... please don’t send us away.”

Grillby looks up.

Hm, maybe he doesn’t have to force them to stay here.

“Relax, kid, I ain’t send you nowhere.” Grillby says, standing up. “I gotta go back outside, take care of the customers. You two just stay put, we’ll go training when I get back. Sound good?”

Sans gives a small, affirmative nod allows Papyrus to squirm out of his arms.

“Stay out of trouble,” Grillby says, returning to the bar. People were staring, but to their credit they were at least trying to look like they weren’t. Grillby picks up the glass he’d been working on when the sentries had made their unexpected appearance.

If the boys were going to spend their time in the back room all day, Grillby is going to have to get them some toys and shit. He doesn’t want them getting bored and breaking things. But…what do kids play with? Grillby doesn’t remember what he had as a kid, other than a set of steel knives he’d stolen from a store during a robbery. He doesn't exactly want to give the kids weapons - they are trouble enough as it is.

He spends the rest of the day thinking about training, admittedly getting a little excited. There is a lot he wants to teach the boys, and there’s a lot they need to learn.

Grillby smiles honestly for the first time in a long time.

He’s excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading~  
> Please do go check out my other work, I promise not to disappoint. It updates daily.
> 
> Ps. This chapter almost got titled "Burn the Children! Burn them!"


	5. Gynephobia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back!
> 
> I know this story updates slowly, and I am so sorry! The good news is I have an outline set and I have no intention of stopping. Also, I am about to go on break, so that means I'll have more time to write, but I can't promise anything.
> 
> Also, **content warning**. This chapter and the next are going to cover topics of non-con and child molestation, if this isn't okay with you, I would suggest either leaving or skipping them. As a side note, I come from several other fandoms where content/trigger warnings aren't used nearly as often or at all, so I am not used to tagging my work. I'm not against it, but I am new at it so if I miss anything _please_ tell me.

“So, deary, how’s the business going?”

Grillby huffs but doesn’t give a response.  He feels that if Muffet isn’t going to actually help him with any of the heavy lifting, then she doesn’t deserve conversation.  Grillby pants as he drops the box full of goods behind the counter.  For a bunch of pastries, they are much heavier than he would have expected.  He would get the boys to come out and help him, but with Muffet here that’s impossible.  Why is she even here anymore?  He’s already paid her, so can’t she just leave already?

Oh well, there’s only three more to go anyway, and Grillby can’t afford to let this partnership disintegrate over kicking her out.

Grillby gets started on the next box and Muffet drops herself onto the bar top, crossing her legs and leaning forward.

“I have a new recipe that is absolutely wonderful.  Care to try, Grillzy?”

“Not hungry.” Grillby answers.

“Come on,” She says, unwrapping a tiny muffin.  “if you’re going to sell my food then you should at least inspect them for quality~.”

Grillby sighs. He knows she’s not going to let this go until he tries it, so he puts down the box he was carrying and snatches the little pastry out of her hands.  She smiles brightly as he pops the whole thing in his mouth.

“How is it?”

Grillby swallows.  It’s…not bad.  Not bad at all, not that he would expect anything less than amazing from his business partner.  She has always been a strong cook.

“‘S fine.” he answers curtly.

Muffet giggles gleefully.  “It should be!  Woshua was a very fine monster.”

It takes Grillby a minute to understand what Muffet meant, and suddenly he was on the floor dry heaving.

Muffet cackles loudly, clutching her stomach and wiping away a tear with one of her many arms.  Grillby glares up at her from the floor.

“Never do that again!” He shouts, flames reeling with disgust.

Muffet's laughing dies down to a small chuckle.  “Oh, but wasn’t it just delicious~?” Grillby glares at her intensely.  “Now, don’t look at me like that, Grillby, It’s not like I killed him myself.  He was taken out by the royal guards for some reason or another.  They were going to throw his dust away!  How could I let such a fine ingredient just be scattered to the wind?”

Disgusted, Grillby decides to let it go.  What’s done is done, and, honestly, he couldn’t give a damn about a stupid Woshua.  He doesn’t even allow them in the bar anymore since they always critic the cleanliness of everything.  The final straw was when one turned a hose on him, and everything after that is a blur of rage and dust.

Grillby continues stacking boxes and Muffet continues to watch.

“You’re still going to sell them for me, right?”  Muffet asks quickly.

Grillby sighs.  “What people don’t know won’t hurt them.” He says, finishing stacking the last boxes.  He tears open the one he set aside earlier and begins placing the food inside on display.  “Besides, it was very good, Muffet.”

“Ahuhuh!  Thank you, dearie~.”

Grillby rolls his eyes.  Now that Muffet has fed him monster remains, Grillby is hopeful that she will just take her leave.  It’s late and he’s eager to get out with the boys.  Sans is a hopeless mess when it comes to fighting, but Papyrus…he had started training the young boy a few days ago.  Papyrus had been trying to copy the sweeping move that he was teaching Sans, and Grillby just thought it was so pathetic that he had to show him how to do it right.  Turns out the boy is quick learner, and a natural fighter.

“Say, are you still living alone~?”

Grillby is snapped from his daydreaming to see Muffet leaning over the counter with her head propped against her palms.  There is no doubt that in her mind it is intensely adorable, but to Grillby it couldn’t be more annoying.

“Muffet, if I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times, I’m not interested.”

“Ahuhuh!  That isn’t what I’m referring to, dear~.”  The last word is spoken with an ominous undertone. She…she can’t possible know about the boys, can she?  Grillby hasn’t let anyone see them since the teenagers incident, and while rumors have been spreading, he didn’t think they had reached Hotland yet.

Before Grillby can deny or at least come up with some kind of excuse Muffet leans in closer.

“I have eyes everywhere, Grillzy.” She says lowly.  A spider climbs down from the ill-patched hole in the ceiling and lands on Grillby’s shoulder.  Grillby looks down at the little nuisance and suddenly he understands.  “You can’t hide anything from me.”

Grillby wants to slam his head into a wall.  Of course Muffet knows!  She knows everything that happens in the underground.  His frustration must have shown, because Muffet is laughing again and Grillby has to try really hard not to punch her in her smug little face.

“Relax, I’m not going to tell anyone.” She says standing back up, “I just want to meet them.”

“That isn’t a good idea,” Grillby says.  While the boys have warmed up considerably to him over the past few weeks, they have still yet to meet another monster under his roof.  Sans was the most concerning, constantly nervous and paranoid - he could easily injure Muffet if he was startled enough - though probably not kill, as Grillby has learned.

“Oh come on, pleeeease?” Muffet begs, “I’m wonderful with children - I have over a thousand myself.”

Grillby sighs.  He guesses there isn’t too much harm in just letting Muffet meet them, if only for a moment. It’ll make her happy, and the boys could use some social skills.

“Fine, I’ll go get them.”

Muffet claps her hands together joyfully.  Grillby turns and walks into his private room.  The boys are curled up in their dog-like forms, asleep on the bed.  Grillby lets them use it during the day, since he doesn’t exactly need to use them at that time, and they seem to like it.  They look so relaxed and peaceful - Grillby is almost hesitant to wake them, but he was going to get them up in a minute for training anyway, so he lightly taps Papyrus, who blinks a few times then shifts, rubbing his bleary eyes.

“TRAINING?” He asks drowsily. 

“Not yet.” The flame says,  “There’s someone I want you two to meet.”

Papyrus nods and begins shaking his brother.  Grillby usually lets Papyrus wake Sans, as the few times Grillby has tried it himself he’s nearly gotten his hand bitten off.  He’s noticed the other pup’s compulsion to sleep at any hour allowed to him - at first Grillby was afraid that it was a sign of growing illness, but it seems it is just a part of his normal behavior.

When Sans rolls over lazily, batting his brother’s hand away, Papyrus proceeds to shove him off the bed. Sans hits the floor roughly and panics, snapping and growling at nothing.  Grillby waits for him to calm, and when he does, Sans shifts and mutters a quiet apology.

“It’s fine,” Grillby says, “we have a guest I would like you to meet.”

“k.”

Grillby notices the flicker of fear in Sans’ eyes, but he pushes it down quickly.  Grillby feels a small flare of pride.  Sans is a coward, there is no denying that, but he’s not hopeless.  There’s still quite a bit of potential in him.

Grillby lifts Papyrus off the bed and carries him out the door, letting Sans trail behind.  The moment he is out the door, Muffet is beside herself.

“Oh my stars they are adorable~~.”

She rushes up to Papyrus and looks him over.  Papyrus squirms, demanding to be put down.  Grillby complies and Papyrus stands in front of Muffet, craning his neck to look up at the other’s eyes.  Muffet crouches down to just above eye level and chuckles.

“Well, what’s your name, sweetheart?” She laughs.

“PAPYRUS!” He shouts.  Muffet’s smile brightens. 

“What a cute name!  Fitting for such a cute little skele~.”

“NOT CUTE!!” Papyrus stomps his foot.  “‘M A WARRIOR!”

Muffet giggles again and pets the top of his skull.  “I’m sure you are!”  Papyrus bats her hand away.  Muffet responds by tickling his ribs.  The little skeleton laughs and backs away, Muffet declaring her victory against The Great and Terrible Papyrus.

“As a token of my defeat, I grant you this cookie~.” Muffle lowers the small disk into the child’s welcoming hands.  Grillby, reacting quickly, snatches the cookie out of Papyrus’ hands, muttering a quick ‘don’t eat that’, and glares at the smug spider.

Muffet continues to play with Papyrus, and true to her word, she is a natural with the child.  Papyrus is infatuated with her, having met very few other people.  He is a very hyper child, and between Grillby’s business and Sans’ laziness he never gets the chance to express that with another.  Grillby crosses his arms and watches the spectacle with a bemused grin.  He should invite her over more often.

Out of the corner of his eye, Grillby notices Sans by the doorway.  He is glaring intensely at Muffet, in a way that Grillby has never before seen in the boy.  He was beginning to think he was incapable of maliciousness, but right now there is an aura of hate rolling from the boy.  Grillby would almost be proud if it wasn’t directed towards his long-standing business partner.  Grillby slowly looks back to the pair.

“YOU LOOK DIFFERENT!” Papyrus exclaims, pointing at Muffet.

“Well, I’m a spider, dear.” She informs him.

“OH.  DO ALL SPIDERS HAVE LUMPY THINGS ON THEIR CHEST?”

Grillby’s face lights up in a blush, but Muffet simply laughs and explains, “No dear, those are my breasts.  I have them because I’m a female.”

For whatever reason, that seems to do it for Sans.  He quickly shifts and charges the bipedal spider, teeth bared and beam charging.  Grillby lunges forward and catches him around the middle, hauling him up, limbs flailing.  Grillby has to wrap a hand around Sans’ muzzle to keep him from firing.

“Sans!  Stop!”

It’s the first time an order from Grillby has gone ignored.  Sans continues to lash out towards Muffet, growling and barking loud enough for the whole town to hear.  Grillby drags the child back into the back room and throws him on the bed before quickly locking the door behind him.  Sans leaps from the bed, but Grillby stops him before he can reach the door again.

“What has gotten into you?!” Grillby snaps, blocking the way.  Sans snarls and for the first time since Sans attacked him in the bar, Grillby is scared of Sans. 

“let me through!”  He snaps.  “let me through, papyrus is still in there!”

Grillby stomps forward, anger showing in his face, and whatever has possessed Sans drains out of him as he cowers away, shaking.  Grillby isn’t about to let this cowardly behavior go as he yanks Sans up by the back of his neck.

“Papyrus is perfectly safe.” Grillby snaps, “Do you think I would let someone dangerous into my bar?”

Sans’ eyes shut and he shakes his head weakly.  Grillby drops him to the ground and lets him shift back into his bipedal form.  Grillby looks down at him, glaring intensely from behind his spectacles.

Sans is still shaking, though this time Grillby swears it is from anger, not fear.  His fists are curled tightly in his lap, and his eyes are staring blankly down at the floor boards.  He mumbles something through gritted teeth, and Grillby strains to hear.

“Say that again, kid.” He says, anger still present in his voice, “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“i...i said d-don’t leave us with h-her,” Sans’ voice trembles.  “i’m s-sorry i didn’t listen….please don’t...don’t…”

Grillby puts his head in his hands.  Sans is an enigma trapped in a puzzle - the kid’s never made a damn lick of sense - why should he start now? Finally, Grillby looks up and storms out, giving Sans a small, ‘wait here’ before returning to the bar.

Muffet is still standing where she was before, Papyrus tucked in her arms.  Boy, is Grillby glad that Sans doesn’t see that. He quickly takes Papyrus from her arms and walks back to the room.

“Is everything alright?” Muffet asks.

“Peachy.” Grillby hisses, depositing Papyrus in his room before quickly returning to the main area.  “I’m sorry about that.  Sans is...Sans.”

Muffet gives a little shrug.  “It’s quite alright, happens when you take in strays.”  Grillby isn’t sure how he feels about the term ‘strays’, but he lets it slide.  It’s not like he can think of a better term.

Something occurs to him and he has to ask.

“Do you… happen to know where they are from?” Grillby asks.  Muffet is pretty deep in the Underground’s underground (much more so than Grillby), is the royal baker, and she has an army of spider spies scattered across the underground - she might know something about the children’s origins.

Unfortunately, she simply shrugs.  “Sorry, sweetie - though I did know of them before they showed up at your door.”  Grillby arches an eyebrow.  Muffet continues, “They were on the run from... something before the Guard got after them - and don’t ask me what; I have no clue.”  That’s disappointing, but reasonable. Muffet looks thoughtful for a moment, then continues.  “You should really be glad you found them when you did, they wouldn’t have lasted much longer.”

Grillby nods, trying not to think on that too much.

“I like them.” Muffet says decisively, “I’ll put a good word out for them in the inner circles.”

“I’d rather not have anyone know about…this.” Grillby informs.

“Oh, it’s a little late for that,” Muffet smiles.  “Rumors spread fast and - hey, don’t look at me like that.  It’s not like I was the one to spread ‘em.”  Grillby isn’t sure how much he believes that, but before he can comment, Muffet looks at one of her many watches, “Oh my, I am running so late.  I need to make it back before my little spiders get too antsy~  I’ll see you around, dearie~.”

Grillby watches as Muffet leaves, then leans back, resting his head in his hands.  What is wrong with that child? Grillby is certainly glad that Muffet likes them enough to at least put a word out for them - the more allies the better.  After the incident with the teenagers and the sentries, Grillby could use all the allies he can get.

Although, the teenagers were not the ones to rat him out.

_“What do you mean, you didn’t tell the dogs.”_

_Grillby had Snowdrake held against the wall by his neck.  Ice Cap was already badly burned and two others had run off.  Grillby would chase them down later._

_“I-I swear, it wasn’t us!!” Snowdrake choked out.  Grillby flung the teen to the ground and he gasped for air. Grillby didn’t give him any time to recover, planting a foot on the bird's chest and pressing down just hard enough to keep him there, but not enough to take the rest of his dwindling HP._

_“Okay then, kid.” Grillby spat. “If it wasn’t you, or your little gang, then who did?  ‘Cause ain’t no one else in this town knows.”_

_Grillby pressed down on the teen’s head when Snowdrake refused to reply immediately.  The teen cried out, and Grillby hoped no one nearby heard._

_“I don’t know!  I don’t know!” He pleaded._

_“Not good enough.” Grillby removed his foot off the kid’s chest and proceeded to slam it into his side.  His HP was down to the single digits - if the kid died and was telling the truth then Grillby would be shit out of luck for leads on finding the culprit.  Grillby finally let the kid up and shoved his hands into his pockets.  The kid had about ten seconds before Grillby dusted his ass._

_Snowdrake rolled over to his stomach and spat up clouds of dust.  He finally made it to his knees and looked up to Grillby._

_“T-there was s-s-someone else a-at the m-m-meeting,” Snowdrake said shakily, stuttering worse than Sans, “some chick from Hotland, just a cute little teen who I thought might want to join our gang.”_

_Grillby raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue._

_“I-I don’t k-know who she was, I swear!” Snowdrake said, shaking his head.  “She just up and disappeared as soon as the fire started.  Never heard from her again!”_

_“What did she look like?” Grillby asked calmly._

_“Donno.  K-kept a hood over her head.” Snowdrake told him, “But if anyone ratted you out it was her.  She had some kind of grudge against you.”_

_Grillby growled and Snowdrake backed away instinctively.  Grillby watched as the kid ran off, dragging a half-melted, half-conscious Ice Cap with him.  The kid was telling the truth.  Grillby hadn’t worked in a bar for a quarter of a century and not picked up a few social tricks - namely telling when a person was lying about a story._

Grillby sighs.  He still has no idea who it was that had called him in to the Royal Guard.  Maybe it was that girl at the meeting, maybe it was just someone else with a grudge - who can be sure.  There hasn’t been an issue since then, so maybe the person is placated and won’t bother him again.

Probably not.

Grillby finishes sorting the goods from Muffet, then paces over to a chair where he pours himself a shot. He’s been drinking less since he now spends almost every hour not spent working training with the kids, but today has been stressful. He already doesn’t like working with Muffet, but what was up with Sans’ reaction to her?  That was…unexpected, to say the least.  Sans is a nervous little kid, but he’s never had that kind of reaction to anyone - not that Grillby’s let him around many people, besides the teens, before. 

Maybe it was just the shock of seeing another monster after so long?  It would make sense, given his already anxious disposition. Still…if that is going to be his reaction to all other monsters Grillby is going to have to break him of that soon.  Even though Grillby doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends, Sans and Papyrus can’t just stay cooped up in the back room for the rest of their lives.  Eventually they are going to have to learn to cooperate with other monsters - especially if Muffet goes around talking about them.  Because of the bounty on their head it would be almost impossible for them to be around normal monsters, but they could definitely get along with the monsters that live in the shadows of the law.

Well, Grillby decides that that is a problem for another night.  Downing the last of the shot, he kicks the barstool under the counter and wipes his face.  After all of these stressful events he had almost forgotten about the fun he had planned for the evening.

Grillby brushes off all of the negative events of the last hour and moves for the door to the back room.

\---

Sans sits perfectly still in the corner.

Stupid, he was so, so stupid.

But he couldn’t help it.  When he saw that Grillby was leaving him with one of _them,_ and he saw that she was touching his brother, and Sans just couldn’t handle it.

The door swings open and Grillby enters.  Sans ducks down while Papyrus rushes forward.  The taller monster bends over and runs a hand over the little one’s skull begrudgingly; Sans simply curls up further.

Grillby eyes Sans, unsure, but ultimately ushers the pair out of the room and into the snow. 

So he’s just going to ignore what happened?  Good.  Sans has noticed his boss’ tendency not to ask questions when it comes to his behavior.  Sans is still trying to understand what Grillby wants from the two of them.  Obviously to be fighters, but there has to be more to it than that.  What does he want them to do when he is away?  How does he want them to act when they are training?  Are they allowed to ask questions?  Will there be any punishment that will involve….

Sans shakes his head quickly, dispelling the thought.  Grillby is not The Scientist - he wouldn’t let those things happen to him, right?  Grillby is harsh and demanding, but so far he hasn’t been cruel.

But could that change?

There were always times when The Doctor would be gentler with him, where he would permit Sans to speak or scream as necessary, and at times he was almost as kind as Grillby.

But it would never last.

The Scientist would lash out - the weeks of kindness melting away into the past as the cruel reality would instantly sink back in.  More tests, more procedures, more punishments.  Then he would leave him with her.

The feathers.  It was was feathers that got him.  They made it so hard to breathe, and Sans would always find them in odd places in his bones, reminding him of what had happened.

“Kid?”

Sans snaps out of his daze, realizing only now that he had stopped walking. 

“i-its fine, s-sir. s-sorry, sir.,” he stutters out, catching back up to the other two.   Grillby scrutinizes him, but doesn’t say anything.  Sans moves behind him, keeping his eyes glued to the snow being kicked up by his clumsy little brother.

Sans’ mind wanders back to the woman from before.  He was pretty sure from the moment that he saw her that that was what she was, but he was so positive that Grillby wouldn’t ever let one of them near him. Grillby was so nice, and Sans didn’t even know what he had done wrong, but he couldn't even begin to express his relief that she was gone. The message was made perfectly clear though -

Don't mess up.

Sans remembers the way The Doctor would bring her in to watch his sessions. It was meant to scare him into trying harder, and it worked – because Sans would do anything not to be left alone with her.

Their group arrives at the training grounds, and Grillby begins warming them up. Papyrus is impatient to get started, rushing every exercise that he is given. Sans does his best to slow him down, knowing that rushing often leads to punishment, and with the threat of the woman still looming over his head, he is determined not to let that happen. Especially not to Papyrus.

But Grillby doesn't seem to mind. He is somewhat anxious to get started himself, it seems. They stretch for much less time than normal, and then Grillby takes Sans to the side.

“NO FAIR!” Papyrus whines. “I WANNA FIGHT!”

“Sorry, pipsqueak. Need ta work with Sans right now.”

Papyrus huffs and Sans can feel his nervousness increasing with every disobedient and defiant action. However, Grillby simply ignores his brother's behavior in favor of instructing Sans.

“Okay, let's work on teleporting again.” Grillby says, “Try to make it over to your brother.”

Sans nods, but on the inside he is burning. Ever since he teleported from the closet, Grillby has been trying to get him to replicate it. Unfortunately, the flame has no idea how to do that, so it makes it difficult for him to teach it to Sans. He's finally figured out how to start the process, but, more often than not, does not hit his mark.

Sans clenches his fists and concentrates. He can't mess this up. Not now.

The world tilts and Sans feels sick, but he continues and pushes until finally -

“Nice job kid,” Grillby's voice is distant, and when Sans opens his eyes... “But next time, try to stay on the same level.”

...Sans is on a ledge almost fifteen feet in the air.

“s-sorry, sir! i-i'll get it next time.”

Grillby nods in response, and Sans lets out a relieved breath.

“Now get back down here!”

Sans closes his eyes and thinks of the space next Grillby. Concentrate. He can make the jump. He can do this. He has too, because if he doesn't, the consequences would be worse than any fate he could imagine for himself.

The world melts around him and Sans finds himself standing in the space between reality again. Okay, so now he just has to get to Grillby. Sans focuses all his energy on finding his master, and slowly a flicker of blue comes into view -

_“Again, Subject-One.”_

_Sans has been trying so hard to hit the small stack of boxes on the other end of the room. He fired several times, but the target is just too small, too far away. He fires again and again until his body gives out and he is on the floor panting._

_“Oh my,” The woman is beside him, laughing mechanically. Small, bright feathers fall from her wings as her body shakes with mirth. “it looks like he's worn himself out.”_

_“It can handle this and much more, Roslyn, it's just being suborn.“ Gaster turns back to his creation. “Subject-One, up! Disobedience will not be tolerated.”_

_Sans twitches, but cannot get to his feet. It's not that he doesn't want to follow the orders, it's that his body physically will not comply._

_“Subject-One, stand up right now or else!”_

_“Easy now Gaster,” Roslyn says. “I don't want him too worn out for our session later.”_

Sans opens his eyes and reality fades back into view.

He has no idea where he is.

It's obviously still Snowdin, with snow and pine trees growing out of every corner, but Sans has no idea where this place is. He hasn't been exploring enough to know these woods very well.

Sans kicks up the snow in rage and cries out. How could he mess this up!? Sans shifts forms fast and fires at nothing. And he hits nothing. Sans fires again and again until he finds himself exhausted

Sans leans back and sits on his hind legs. Panting, Sans looks around. He can't be that far from the cave, right? His abilities can't be powerful enough to take him more than a few hundred feet. He just needs to get his bearings and get right back at it.

Maybe then Grillby would just yell at him again.

The lack of physical punishment hasn't gone unnoticed by the small skeleton, but that he chalked up to Grillby not wanting to break his weapons. It actually makes sense now; after all, Roslyn never hurt him too bad, physically.

Sans shivers and searches the woods. It takes much longer than he had been hoping to find anything even remotely familiar, and even then it only showed him that he was heading in the wrong direction. It takes almost half an hour to return to the cave, and when he returns he finds the sound of fighting.

It seems that his brother had gotten tired of waiting, so Grillby and he were sparing. Sans sank down by the entrance as not to interrupt, but watched their fight with interest. His brother has gotten very good over the past few days. It is amazing how swift and precise his strikes are; even Sans can't help but be impressed.

Grillby takes a swipe at the boy’s side when he's not looking, and for a moment it looks like Papyrus is going to be knocked over, but he quickly catches the foot and pushes back. It sends Papyrus back several feet and probably bruised his ribs, but Grillby loses his balance and topples over.

Sans' heart stops and he rushes over to his brother, determined to protect him from any punishment that was going to come from this.

It was very confusing when Grillby started laughing.

“That...that was clever, Papyrus!” Grillby laughs, getting to his feet. He regains his composure, but the smile does not fade from his flaming face. “That was very impressive, kid. I didn't expect you to get me on my ass 'til at least week two.”

Papyrus beams and rushes towards Grillby, this time to receive praise rather than in attack.

Sans was completely still. What... what is happening? Papyrus attacked and hurt Grillby, but he's acting as though he is actually happy about it. He's praising him. The Scientist never once praised them for anything they did – especially not for even _trying_ to injure him.

Sans watches as Grillby picks up his little brother and beckons him to leave. Sans blinks slowly, then nods.

As they walked back, Sans thinks quietly to himself. It does not surprise him in the least that Papyrus is better than he is. Papyrus was created to replace him, the defective one. Sans is suddenly very grateful for his new found teleporting ability, because it has become very clear that that is his only advantage over his brother, and it may be the only reason is isn't back on the streets...or worse.

The Doctor always did threaten to send him home with Roslyn, after all.

  
  


\---

  
  


Papyrus is getting bigger, Sans realizes. Sans can no longer hold his brother without his knees going wobbly. It’s one bleary morning that Sans wakes up and finds that Papyrus has grown just an inch taller than he is. Grillby seems thrilled with this development, taking out a small tape measure to get the exact height.

“Damn, kid,” He chuckles. “You're growing faster than an echo flower.”

“NYEHAHA!”

Sans watches from a distance. Papyrus is now tall enough to reach the top of the bed without help. Sans leans his entire body against the bed; the top of his skull just barely reaches. He pushes himself to the tips of his toes – there, that's better, now it's like they're the same height again.

“Don't worry, kid.” Sans jumps at the flame's rough voice. “You'll get there.”

Sans nods and looks back to the floor. He did not miss the hint of disappointment in Grillby's voice.

In fact, it seems that lately all he's been is a disappointment. He tries to please Grillby, he really does, but Sans is just too slow, too tired, too weak, too short! Papyrus has none of these problems, to which Sans is eternally grateful. He is sure that if it wasn't for his brother's natural abilities, Grillby would have thrown them out. Or worse.

If there is one thing that Sans and Grillby share, it is a pride in Papyrus. His little brother is so talented in almost everything that he does. He is a strong fighter, and talented in traps and puzzles. If he can't beat Grillby with strength, he has him in form. The day that Papyrus knocked over Grillby had been terrifying, partly because Sans thought that Grillby would be mad, but when that proved to be the opposite, that fear had been replaced with a new, even more bone-chilling thought. Papyrus had been able to knock over Grillby, but Sans could not.

Sans had become obsolete again.

And that was as frustrating as it was terrifying, because the whole reason he left the lab was to avoid the consequences of not being good enough. It seems that no matter where he went, he wouldn't be able to compare to his brother.

Grillby put the tape away and continues getting ready. Sans and Papyrus make their way to the top of the bed. Papyrus hates the time during the day when Grillby has to leave for work, but nothing makes Sans happier. Left alone and allowed to sleep all he wants – what more can he ask for?

Grillby shuts the door and Papyrus wiggles around, trying to get Sans to play.

“mmnnn,” Sans mumbles, turning over. Papyrus tries to rouse his brother for another few minutes before giving up entirely.

“ARRG!” he cries, “LAZY!”

Sans flinches. That’s a new word. There is no doubt that Papyrus had learned that word from Grillby, as he was the first one to say it to them.

_“My Asgore, Sans, if you get any lazier you’ll turn into a Moldsmol!”_

_Sans and Papyrus looked over to Grillby in confusion._

_“WHAT'S A LAZIER?” Papyrus asked before Sans could stop him. It had been a very short time that they had known this monster at that point, and Sans was still nervous about asking questions like that. Thankfully, though, Grillby only seemed to be annoyed by them, not enraged._

_“Lazy,” Grillby put a lot of emphasis on that first word, “is not wanting to do what you are supposed to do when you are supposed to do it.”_

_Sans ducked his head and mumbled an apology. Grillby didn't even seem to hear him, or, if he did, he didn't care. He continued the drill and Sans almost forgot about the new word._

“i'm not lazy, bro,” Sans mumbles, “i'm just having a _bed_ day.”

If there is one thing Papyrus hates more than Sans being 'lazy', it’s his puns. Sans laughs softly as Papyrus lets out an angered rawr. To him it must sound ferocious, but to Sans it’s just adorable.

“you're _growling_ up so fast!”

Papyrus yells louder and Sans has to bury his face into the pillow to hide his growing giggles. Papyrus launches himself at Sans and attempts to roll him off the bed, but when Sans refuses to budge, Papyrus gives up and stands on the bed.

“YOU CAN'T BEAT ME, I'M TALLER NOW!”

Sans stops laughing and faces his younger brother. He hides the hurt from his face and quickly shifts to a smirk.

“well there's no reason to be _short_ with me then, is there?”

Papyrus shoves Sans again, this time toppling him off the bed and onto the floor, taking the sheet and the lamp from the nightstand with him. Papyrus cackles from the top of the bed and Sans rubs his back where most of the impact had centered.

“The hell are you two doing in here!?” Grillby's angry hiss comes from the door as he cracks it open. “I heard that all the way out here.”

“sorry.”

“SORRY.”

Grillby huffs and shuts the door. Papyrus hops off the bed and starts waddling around the room. Grillby had brought them puzzles to pass the time, but Papyrus had mastered all of them so quickly it was no longer fun for Sans to attempt to challenge him. Grillby had also attempted to give them books, but since neither of them can read these go mostly untouched. Sans had thought for a moment to tell Grillby that, but he didn't want to admit that there was one more thing that he couldn't do that he was expected to. So now he pretends to be reading every time Grillby enters the room. He hasn't been found out yet, but, unfortunately, Papyrus has been bugging him to teach him to read.

Sans sighs as Papyrus brings him yet another book, eyes pleading for Sans to read it to him.

“not now,” Sans says, heart-heavy, “i'm _booked_.”

Papyrus whines, “NO! STORY NOW. I'M THE BIG BROTHER!”

Sans huffs, but ultimately gives in to his younger brother's wishes. He opens the book and looks at the pages. There are pictures on every page in this one, so it is easier for him to make up what is happening.

“umm... so there is a bunny,” Sans starts, pointing at the pink illustration. “and he has to... get to the big castle, over there.”

Papyrus is concentrating on the symbols on the page, trying to get the meaning as Sans narrates. Sans sweats, trying not to show is nervousness. He turns the page and studies the illustration. “so then, the bunny puts on this... metal-thingy.”

“IT DOES NOT SAY METAL THINGY!”

“yuh-huh!” Sans says defensively, pointing at a random string of letters. “see, right there! can't you read?”

Papyrus squints at the sentence and Sans quickly flips the page. “so now he's going around and... stabbing monsters?” Papyrus giggles and Sans turns the page. “i mean – he's making friends with them! and now they're following him?”

Papyrus is looking at the picture happily, enjoying the way the bunny is standing proudly, dressed in a metal suit. He attempts to mimic the pose, smiling brightly.

“NYEH”

“you're so cool.”

“NYEHAHA!”

“I said keep it down in there!”

Sans ducks down and Papyrus sits, looking at Sans expectantly.

“FINISH THE STORY.” he says, only slightly quieter.

Sans turns the page. “so then there is this other bunny, and he's with that big lizard, and the bunny doesn't like that.”

“WHY?”

Sans shrugs. “i don't know, just doesn't.” Papyrus is not satisfied with that answer, but he doesn't say anything about it. Sans turns the page. “so then the bunny stabs the lizard thing and the other bunny goes back with his friend. the end.

“WHAT ABOUT THE CASTLE?”

“what castle?”

“YOU SAID THERE'D BE A CASTLE!”

Sans pretends to check the page again. “nope, sorry bro, no castle.”

“THEN WHY WOULD THEY SAY THERE'D BE A CASTLE!?”

Sans shrugs and puts the book back in the stack with the others. Papyrus is pacing again, clearly upset that he did not get the ending he wanted. Sans is glad that he's done with that. Now he can go back to doing nothing – it's honestly his favorite thing to do.

The rest of the day Sans spends either sleeping or occasionally being pressured into playing with Papyrus.  It has become quite the routine for them, and honestly Sans can't complain. They're never hungry, never cold, never even worked too hard. Sans is perfectly content with his – so he wants to do his best to impress their master so he doesn't send him out.

While Sans is resting his eyes, Papyrus gets bored and the Sans hears the door open and click shut.

“paps?”

Sans' soul drops as he realizes he is alone in the room. He jumps to his feet right as there is a small squeal from outside the room. Sans rushes to his feet and scrambles to the door. Fear grips him just as he reaches the handle and he pushes the door open just a hair.

“Holy hell! He's adorable!”

Papyrus is standing just below a tall bunny – much like the one in the story, except this one is having almost as much trouble standing up as Papyrus.

“So the rumors are true!” The bunny shouts, and Sans notices that its voice is almost as unsteady as it is on its legs. “You had a...a babies!”

“Janette, please, go home. The bar has been closed for over an hour, and you’re drunk.”

“No...no I-I'm not...oh my Asgore he's _cuuuuuuute_!”

Grillby's head is in his hands, the way Sans has seen him do when he gets frustrated. Sans looks back to the unknown monster. Sans is very put off by its voice and appearance. It looks almost like a woman, but Sans cannot imagine a female looking anything but terrifying. This one looks so...weak.

The rabbit monster's gaze drifts to Sans and he takes a step back, closing the door just enough that he can still see his little brother.

“Oh my Asgore...there's twooo!”

The rabbit takes a clumsy step towards Sans and falls. Papyrus laughs loudly, and Sans quickly rushes to his brother, trying to stop him before he got them in trouble. Grillby bends over and lifts the collapsed bunny. They struggle to hold themselves against the bar.

“Waz their names?” They slur.

“That’s none of your business.” Grillby snaps. “And I suggest that if you remember any of this in the morning, you _keep it to yourself_.”

Sans backs away from Grillby's harsh tone, but the rabbit just laughs.

“Relax, Gril, I can...can keep a....uh...umm.........”

Grillby takes the rabbit by the arm and drags them to the exit, throwing them out and locking the door. He leans back against the wooden frame and knocks his head against door several times before looking to the pair.

“WHY WAS HE SO STUPID?”

Grillby's expression turns to an uncomfortable smile. “I cannot even begin to imagine what has made that woman that way.”

Sans tenses. So it was another woman. Why is Grillby letting so many of them into his home? How many are there? Before he escaped that place he had only known the one and she was...was...

“You okay, kid?” Grillby raises a flaming eyebrow and Sans gulps down his fear. He puts on his most convincing, nonchalant face and nods.  Grillby barely notices and reaches for Papyrus.  Sans trails behind as Grillby and Papyrus lead the way to the training grounds. 

Sans’ mind was locked in its own little world.  There was another woman.  Grillby brought two of them to the house.  Sans can’t understand why he would do this if not a threat, but the rabbit was so harmless…

Sans wraps his arms around himself; despite being warm he is shivering. He can't stay here. It’s becoming more and more apparent. His soul is pulsing rapidly, and he slowly comes to a stop. Grillby doesn't notice in the least, so Sans shifts and runs.

All four paws slam the ground as he barrels through the woods. He is running back for the town first. He won't survive if he doesn't get supplies. Just what he can carry, then he'll find somewhere else. Somewhere where there are no monsters. He'll be safe there.

Sans plows his way through the snow, paws tearing frantic gashes in the powder as he bursts through the trees and onto a path.

The snow is more packed down on the trail, and Sans uses it as a way to hide which direction he is going from Grillby. If he notices that Sans is gone and attempts to follow his tracks he’ll have no way of knowing which direction he went.

Sans barrels headlong down the path, focusing on his plan, and his plan alone. He needs supplies. He needs a map of some sort; even if he won’t be able to read it, he can still use the landmarks. He needs a way to keep Papyrus from being able to track him…he would try teleportation if he had better control of it, but…

Sans takes a turn on the path and sprints straight into an obstacle blocking his path

Sans smashes into a cloaked monster and is sent flying backwards as a poof of snow slush and feathers is sprayed into the air. Sans lands messily on his side, the wet snow giving him no traction to use, and the figure is sent skidding a little ways off.

Sans scrambles desperately to get back to his feet, and the figure sits up, groaning harshly in annoyance.

Sans freezes. He stops struggling against the snow, lifting his head slowly, fearfully.

That groan.

That _groan._

The feathers littering the path.

Sans stares past the dark shadows of the cloak that cover her face. Staring at her eyes, eyes that had watched and seen every part of him.  They were clouded for a moment, but then lit in recognition of the small skeleton before her.

"Sans!" Roslyne smiles warmly.  "I've been looking for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A _biiiig_ thank you to my beta, who wrote several paragraphs while I was suffering from writer's block.
> 
> One more thing, Roslyn is not exactally my character. She's appeared in a couple of other Baby Blaster fics, and I felt her Underfell equivalent would work well here.


	6. Feather Duster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That... took a while, huh? Well, there are three things I have learned from this:
> 
> 1) I will NEVER post a story I am not at least 60% done with  
> 2) I will not post sequels to stories and just "make them up as I go along."  
> 3) I will not have two stories active at the same time again. Ever. Never ever ever.
> 
> So, on to the long awaited conclusion to the cliffhanger I've left you guys on for... HOLY SHIT TWO MONTHS!?

Grillby is half way through the forest before he notices he's missing a pup.  Papyrus had begun to look uncomfortable - though the kid did his best not to show it.  Grillby had finally gotten curious of the boy’s unusual behavior and spoke up.

“ ‘ s the matter, kid?” Grillby asks, stopping for a moment to look the kid in the eye, but Papyrus’ head is tilted to the ground.  Papyrus has never looked so nervous before, and normally Grillby would be furious at such a flagrant display of weakness, but for whatever reason he simply bends over on one knee and lifts the child’s chin to his eyes.  “Talk to me, Papyrus.”

Papyrus shuffles his feet, but ultimately mutters, “Don't send Sans away…”

“ What was that?”

“ I SAID DON’T SEND MY BROTHER AWAY!”  This time Papyrus shouts and pushes Grillby, though it doesn’t so much as budge him.

Grillby’s eyebrows shoot up and he jerks back in shock.  The kid just gave _him_ an order. He is impressed to see Papyrus resist a flinch and stand firm.  He holds his head steady and continues to look Grillby in the eye.  Grillby feels a small flair of pride in the strength and determination in the child’s face.  The words finally register in his head and Grillby leans forward.

“ Why would I do that?” He asks, shifting his body into a more comfortable stance.

“ BECAUSE HE’S LAZY, AND STUPID, AND NOT A GOOD FIGHTER,” Papyrus looks conflicted, but continues.  “BUT... IF YOU DON’T WANT HIM THEN... THEN I…”  Papyrus clenches his fists and takes a deep breath, fighting back frustrated tears much better than Grillby would have expected for a child his age.  He finally shoots a defiant glare at Grillby.  “THEN I WON’T STAY!”

Grillby can’t help but let out a small laugh, though it sounds more like a huff to another.  Papyrus is so small, and yet, he is challenging a monster much larger and apparently stronger than he is.  If Grillby wanted to, he could knock the kid nine ways to New Home, but he can’t even bring himself to be mad at the child.  Grillby can see the pricks of fear hiding behind the boy’s eyes, and pride once again swells at the way Papyrus has masked it with anger.

Still, he can’t let this kind of behavior go without comment.  He needs the boys under his control, afterall.

Grillby reaches out to touch Papyrus, who flinches away from the touch quickly.  Grillby changes to grab the front of his shirt, dragging him a few inches forward in the snow.  Papyrus’ eyes flash yellow, but he quickly dims the light to lock eyes with Grillby.

“You’re not going _anywhere_ ,” He says dangerously, and Papyrus’ bravado is shattered in an instant.  Grillby sends a fist to the child’s ribs, knocking Papyrus to the ground and the child scrambles back, out of breath.  Grillby halts his movements with a glare, and Papyrus’ fearful eyes dart to his azure orbs hidden behind his glasses.  “And neither is Sans.  The _both_ of you are going to stay with me, and if you _ever_ challenge me again -” Grillby takes another step forward and Papyrus yelps as if struck.  That’s disappointing.  Oh well, he’s still young, and that puts an end to the defiance that Papyrus was displaying.  Grillby offers a hand to help Papyrus to his feet.  “Now get up, we’re already running late.”

Papyrus looks down for a moment, as if he wants to say something.  He does not take the offered hand and makes no move to stand on his own. Grillby sighs, he does  _ not  _ have time for this.

“ Well, kid?”  Grillby says, patience running dry.  “If you’ve got a comment, out with it.”

There is a pause, as if the child is thinking through his words carefully.  He Finally  seems to find his words.  “IS...IS SANS COMING WITH US?” Papyrus says.

Grillby huffs in annoyance.  “Of course he’s coming with us!  He’s right over -”

Wait.  Where _is_ Sans?  Grillby whips around, searching for any sign of the half pint pooch.  Unfortunately, there wasn’t even a trace of the kid anywhere near them.  Grillby swears loudly and Papyrus backs up.  He quickly turns to the child that _is_ with him.  “How long has be been gone?”

Papyrus shrugs and Grillby has to try not to let his flames burn too hot, though he knows he has to be quite a few degrees hotter than normal.  That kid is fucking _dead._ Grillby knew he was a coward, but abandoning his brother?  Grillby thought he was better than that.  When he finds that kid there is going to be _hell_ to pay!

He grabs Papyrus under one arm, causing the child to yip has he puts weight against the bruised ribs.  He readjusts the child to favor his less injured half and rushes back to Snowdin.  Quickly, he returns to the bar and throws the child in the back with the instructions to stay put.

Grillby feels himself burning out, his flames already too hot with the absolute _rage_ going through his system at the moment.  Thankfully it wasn’t snowing, so he finds the point where the child had taken off relatively easy in the footprints.  Grillby follows the snowprints, attempting to find their creator as quickly as possible.  It seems like the child was in a panic, and the more Grillby cools off the more the whole situation looks and feels strange.  Sans is a lot of things, but careless isn’t really one of them.  This seems more of an act of desperation than a deliberate escape attempt.   Which begs the question -

\- Why did Sans run?

There is a halt in the prints as they meet up with another pair, and the obvious scene of a small struggle is clearly displayed in the snow.  Grillby looks grimly for a pile of dust and the torn up clothes, but when he finds none he is even more confused.  Sans was attacked, but not killed.

Grillby’s eyes widen.

The reward.

The talk of the shapeshifting children in the town had died down so much Grillby had forgotten that the pair are still wanted by the guard.

Sans pleas ring deep in his ears.  The kid would rather die than go back to wherever he was from.  

Grillby shakes his head.  Someone has made off with _his_ property!  And Grillby doesn’t take kindly to thieves.

Grillby finds a set of footprints and a trail of something being dragged.  He follows the path until he can hear the quiet footsteps of someone up ahead.  He swerves around the trees to cut the monster off and finds that it is a bright red avian woman dresses in slightly weather-inappropriate attire.  Sans is dragged along limply behind the woman.  She has him by the hood of his jacket, pulling him carelessly through the snow.  At first Grillby thinks he is unconscious, but now that he is looking the child’s eyes are wide open, blank with fear.  He is barely even putting up a struggle, dragging his feet and twitching every so often.

Grillby feels absolute _rage_ burn in his chest.  That is _his_ child, how _dare_ she think that she can take what belongs to him.  Grillby clenches his fists in his pockets - It is all that he can do not to burn the bitch where she stands.  

He steps forward to block her path, coming up only a foot before her.  The woman looks shocked, but not afraid.  That’s her mistake.  Her shock almost instantly turns to a kind of smug nonchalant-ness.  Sans turns his body to see what had stopped his kidnapping, and goes completely still at the sight of Grillby.

“ It’s a little cold to be out all alone at your age, isn’t it?” She snips, looking at him with a piercing gaze.

“ I could say the same to you,” Grillby retorts.  “A lady such as yourself should be at home with her grandchildren at this hour.”

Her grin falls into as snarl and she takes a more defensive stance. “Look, I’m on official business from the capital, so I suggest that you beat it before I have to call the guards out here.”

Sans lays limp behind the woman, a dejected and broken look meeting his eyes.  Grillby wants to scream at him to get up and run, and he doesn’t understand why the boy is just sitting there.

“ Sorry, Lady, but I don’t give a damn what business you have right now, but you have something that belongs to me and I’m not letting you run off with it.”

She has the gall to look confused, before her face breaks out into a sadistic grin and she begins to laugh.

“ Oh, you mean this?” She pulls Sans in front of her, dropping him on his knees.  Grillby just stares, trying to keep the rage out of his face.  He must have failed miserably, because the damned woman’s laughing grew.  “So you were the one holding on to them?  Tell me, you know where the other one is?”

“ Dead.” Grillby says flattly.  Whoever this bitch is, he sure as hell doesn’t want her going around with the knowledge of the other boys’ continued existence.

“ Mm, shame,” She says absently.  “G was really looking forward to the improvements he was going to make on that one.  Oh well.  That’s good news for you though, isn’t lil buddy.”  She addresses Sans.  “He may keep you around a little longer.  We may even get some more… private time.”  Sans’ face is devoid of emotion, but even in the dark of the caverns Grillby can see tears forming at the corners of his eyes.  Grillby clenches his fists, becoming more and more aggrieved by this woman's’ complete disregard for the child in her grasp.

“ Who are you?” He finally asks, keeping the crackling in his voice betraying his anger to a minimum.

“ Doesn’t matter,” She says, shrugging,  “I work for the guy who created this little cutie, and I’m here to take him back.”  She gives him a sick smile again, and Grillby thinks if he sees it one more time he’s going to vomit.  Something does strike him as odd though;  she had said that the children were  _ created _ .  Grillby stores that in the back of his head for later.  

“ You know, he’d be pretty pissed to find out who was keeping him from his work…” The woman takes another step forward, scaley hand wrapping around Sans’ wrist tightly.  “If you step out of my way now, I won’t have to tell him it was you.”

Grillby scoffs.  “You’re not going anywhere.”  

She raises an eyebrow; that smug look never leaves her face.  “Don’t believe me?”

“ I don’t really care.  He belongs to me now,” Grillby spits at the woman, who simply shrugs in response.

“ You might not want to do that, Geizer,” She says flatly.  “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

“ Neither do you,” Grillby says, lighting his hands in a grandiose display.  It’s nothing he can actually back up, but he’s hopeful it will at least make her reconsider.  Luck does not seem to be on his side today, as the woman laughs and rolls her eyes.

“Listen up,” She says, poising her free hand on her hip.  “I work for W.D. Gaster, maybe you’ve heard of him?” The name sounds familiar, but Grillby doesn’t recall anyone specific.  The name must have meant something, because the woman seems genuinely shocked at the lack of reaction.  “And here I thought you old people loved reading the news.” She mutters.  “Dr. Gaster? The royal scientist? Commissioned by the king?” She stands a little taller.  “He is the one who created this thing and was testing its strength to break the barrier before it escaped.  He will be very, _very_ displeased with how far back he has already been set, however if you stand in his way I know for a _fact_ he will _personally_ wring the life from your wrinkled face.”

Grillby doesn't flinch at the threat, though he bristles inside.  If what she is saying is true - and there is still the possibility that it's not - then it wouldn't be unreasonable to think he would be killed for inhibiting important research for the king, especially if the fate of monsterkind was on the line.  So would it be reasonable to just let her walk off with Sans?  He could avoid consequences and he’d still have Papyrus…

Sans makes a small keening sound.  The woman responds by tightening her grip around his arm; Grillby can hear the bone creek and give.

“ How in the hell is that kid supposed to be able to break the barrier?”  Grillby suddenly asks, anger seeping into his voice.  “He can't even dust a monster.”

The woman hums a little, shifting her weight off of one foot to favor a more comfortable stance.

“ Well, he can't right now,” She says simply.  “But with a few modifications, we should have him up to strength by the end of the year.”

“ Modifications?”

“ Changes, additions,  _ improvements _ ,” She says impatiently.

“ I know what the word means!” Grillby snaps.  “I’m asking what you are planning to do with the child!”

Shit.  That sounded desperate- too desperate...

Her face contorts again, first confusion, then amusement, and finally a twisted laugh escapes her mouth.  “Oh my stars!  Don't tell me you actually _care_ for the dumb animal?”  She continues to laugh as Sans stares blankly at the ground.  Grillby wants nothing more than to tear the wings off the smug bird person, but restrains himself.  Her chuckles fall to giggles, and she sighs, “tell you what, since you seem like a nice old man- _and you are getting on my last nerve-_ I'll give you a hundred gold to forget this whole thing.”  She holds a couple of coins between her long talon like fingers.

“ Thanks, but no thanks,” Grillby says, finally becoming fed up with the whole thing.  He walks forward briskly and snatches the woman’s arm that holds Sans.  “I think I'll just take my chances with your so-called scientist.  Tell him if he wants Sans he’ll have to come and get him.”

The woman, shocked, releases Sans, who falls roughly to the snow covered ground.  She looks at Grillby in the eye, searching - as if she is trying to find something buried in his expression that would explain what is happening.  Finally, she seems to think she's found what she’s looking for.

“ Oh!” She chirps.  “I get it.  You're fucking him.”

What.

What?

Grillby jerks away from the woman as if she'd suddenly turned to water.  She seems to take that as confirmation.

“ That makes sense,” she snickers, gazing at the horrified look on Grillby’s face.  “It’s about all you can get out of this one.”  She nudges the near still form with her talons.  “It’s always been a bit of a failure.”

Grillby takes a step back, searching the woman’s predatory grin or any sign of a sick joke that he was not privy to.  All he finds is empty enjoyment, and a kind of lust he has only seen in the drunk monsters at his bar, the kind that would start fights just so they could have the opportunity to break something.  The kind that he would gladly sweep up their dust if it just meant that he could remove them from this world.

“ There’s no need to be ashamed, old timer,” She continues, unfazed by the horror spreading across the flame’s features. “I’ve had by turns with this thing too.”

_ What? _

The bizarre insanity of the situation made it hard for him to register the comments that the bird monster is making.  Grillby blinks a few times, looks back at the woman’s face, then to the child lying prone on the ground.  He never asked the kid’s age since he’s pretty sure that he doesn’t know either, but Grillby knows damn well that he isn’t old enough to...  She can’t be saying that she...

The woman snickers, “No need to feel bad about it.  It’s not really a monster,” She nudges Sans with her foot.  “It just looks enough like one to feel like the real thing.  Though I guess you didn’t know that when you took him, huh?” She acts as though it is the funniest thing she’s thought of that night.  Grillby continues to stare.  “You’re kind of a freak, ya know?”

Finally, her words break through the cloud of Grillby’s shocked daze.  He can feel his flames heating up, and suddenly, all the rage and anger reach a kind of equilibrium in which he finds that he cannot possibly be more outraged than by what he just heard.

  
  
  


In the underground there are three cardinal rules - don’t harbor a human, don’t assassinate the king, and  _ don’t fuck with children _ .  There isn’t even a true written punishment for these offences because if anyone was caught even attempting these things they’d be lynched on the spot.  Children are the only protected class in the underground, because they are too weak and too powerless to stop an older monster from hurting them.  Parental instincts still exist, even in a world in which “kill or be killed” is the end all philosophy.

Parents who abuse their children are killed.  Sadists who target children are killed.   _ Perverts who rape children are killed. _

So when Grillby bashes the woman’s skull in with his bare hands it is not at all a strange reaction.

Not in the least.

  
  


\---

  
  


_ Sans should be used to the procedures by now.  Afterall, they happen almost once a week.  His soul hovers above his body as his hands are pinned to either side by thick, leather straps.  The Doctor will soon come with a needle attached to a wire that will tell the scientist all he needs to know about Sans’ soul.  Sans isn’t sure what they are testing, but it is painful for many reasons. _

_ Sans hears footsteps and lets his body go limp on the table.  It’s easier this way.  But the footsteps are different from the normal clacking of the doctor’s boots.  These footsteps sound little taps across the white floor.  Sans recognizes them instantly and begins to shake, violent illness creeping inside on him. _

_He doesn’t want that person here - not when he’s so vulnerable, not when his_ soul _, the most important and intimate part of his being is on display.  He thrashes violently, but there isn’t any point and his body is forced lax again by sheer_ exhaustion _as tears well up in his eye sockets._

“ _ Sans~” _

  
  


Sans whole body jolts as he leaves the dream.  After the spasm ends, he lays still, panting, attempting to gain his bearings.  The room he is in is pitch black save for a soft blue glow at the other end.  He moves his hands slowly, phantom restraint holding over from the dream.  His bones feel lighter than normal and his head feels like someone had snuck in and stuffed it with cotton.

What…happened?

Sans slowly lets the memories return to him.  Running away, Roslyn’s assault, being dragged, Grillby - it is blurry, but the recollections are all still there.  Sans had been captured!  That fact alone made him feel like his bones are coated in a thin layer of ice.  He had come so close to being taken back.  Is he back now?  No, he can’t be.  He doubts they would have let him live long enough to actually come to consciousness; at the very least he would be drugged out of his wits to avoid future attempts.

So then… where is he?

Sans turns his head to the source of light emanating from the room.  He feels his soul stutter as he notices Grillby sitting in a chair, arms crossed.  He doesn’t know if he should be relieved or terrified that the flame is there.  There is a steady rise and fall in his flames, and Sans realizes he’s asleep.  His hands curl around the surface he is lying prone on.  It’s soft, like the blankets he and Papyrus have in their little space - except this is softer.  Sans realizes with a strange emptiness that he his on Grillby’s bed. He sinks his head farther into the pillow he is resting on.  What is going on?

The last thing he remembers is being dragged by Roslyn.  Then Grillby was there, and Roslyn told him everything.

Oh god.

Roslyn told him  _ everything _ .

Grillby already knew they weren't monsters, but he had never asked where they came from or why they were made.  He never asked, and Sans had been eternally grateful for that if only because it gave him a very small sense of safety.  He had felt protected by the lack of knowledge, because no matter how bad things got, Grillby could never send them back if he didn't know where they were made.  And now he even knows the name and location of The Doctor!  

The more Sans remembers, the more afraid he becomes.  Roslyn had told Grillby the consequences of harboring Sans - she'd even offered to  _ pay  _ Grillby to give up Sans.  Sans thought that surely he would let her take him; Sans wasn't of anymore use to him and Grillby had already claimed he didn't have Papyrus anymore so Roslyn wouldn’t go looking for him too.  There is no reason that Grillby should have rescued Sans…

and yet…

There is a small creak from the other side of the room.  Sans lifts himself up just enough to investigate.  Papyrus is peering quietly out from behind the closet door in his canine form.  Both boys tend to sleep like that, as there isn't enough space and it's more comfortable, so Sans can only assume that he had been out just a moment ago.  When Papyrus eyes adjust enough to see Sans looking at him from atop the bed, he launches himself across the room, barreling into the side of the bed loudly and scaling the sheets.

“ SANS!”

Sans makes a quick shushing motion, but barely gets his hand to his mouth before he is tackled by the little mass of bones that is his baby brother.  Sans wraps his arms around him and buries his head into Papyrus’ shoulder blade, new relief washing over him in droves.  He didn't think he’d ever see him again.  He was almost separated from his baby brother for good.  Sans’ breath hitched and Papyrus pulls away, sitting down.  He looks like he is about to speak when they are interrupted by the low grumble of Grillby clearing his throat.

The boys look over to the flame, who seems to have woken up.  Sans pulls Papyrus closer to him, but Papyrus squirms out of his grasp almost instantly and he pads his way over to the flame.  He shifts into a bipedal form and slips off the bed.

“ HE WOKED UP!” Papyrus says. “CAN HE EAT NOW?”

Sans flinches at just how loud his brother is, noticing for the first time since waking up that he has a headache.  The prospect of food isn all that tempting.  Honestly, he isn’t really hungry.  What time is it anyways?  Is it still the same day?

“ Sure,” Grillby says, standing up slowly.  He exits the room and Papyrus dances happily, trying to scramble back up the bed in his more clumsy form.  Sans crawls to the edge to help him up.

Almost the instant that Papyrus is on the comforter Grillby returns to the room.

“ Shut your eyes,” he commands.  Papyrus complies instantly, but Sans takes just a moment too long and suddenly his senses are assaulted by far too-bright lights.  He groans and puts his head into his hands and rubs the sockets.  The overpowering smell of Grillby’s food fill Sans sense soon enough, and he tentatively opens his eyes to retrieve the plate.

“ th- thanks, boss,” Sans says quietly.  After everything that has happened, Sans does not have much of an appetite, but he knows better than to let anything go to waste and he begins forcing bits of food into his mouth.  Papyrus sits beside him, occasionally stealing food off the plate when he thinks no one is looking; mostly he just stays close to Sans.

“ Papyrus,” Grillby says when Sans is almost done, “Go back to sleep.  I want to talk with Sans for a moment.”

Sans feels a chill run down his spine.

“ Yes, sir,” Papyrus says, reluctantly sliding off the bed and padding over to the closet.  Sans watches his brother shift and curl up into the blankets; he wants badly to go and tuck him in, but sits as still as possible.  He still doesn’t know how Grillby is going to react to all of this and what it is going to mean for him.  Them.

Grillby shuts the door, sealing Sans away from his brother.  He swallows the last of what he was given.  Grillby takes the plate and sets it on the table closest to them before sitting down on the edge of the bed, and a new more sickening fear reaches into the pit of his core.

Grillby knows now what he was used for in the past.  Does that mean… Sans wants to shutter, but swallows down.  He stills his entire body - partially petrified.

He isn’t good for much of anything - he’s not that good a fighter.  His magic doesn’t work right and even his new and unique abilities are taking far too long to manifest into something useful.  Roslyn had mentioned something before Sans blacked out.  She had asked if Grillby was… doing the same things that she had been doing to him.  Does that mean that Grillby could hurt him like that too?  Does he want to?  Sans feels ill.  He really wishes he hadn’t eaten now.

“ Sans,” Grillby starts, causing every bone in his body to scrunch up.  “I want you to tell me exactly why you wandered off when you knew you were not supposed to.”

Sans’ fingers dance around the fabric covering him.  It was definitely a question he was supposed to answer, but what could he say that Grillby would accept?  What would even make sense? He debates for a moment before coming up with a decent answer “I was… scared?”

“ Scared of what?” Grillby asks.  His voice is completely neutral, devoid of emotion or tone in a way that Sans has never heard before.  It sounds way too close to the doctor for his liking.

“ I… I don’t…” Sans closes his mouth and locks it shut to prevent himself from gasping out.  He can feel tears beginning to slide down his cheeks and Grillby huffs loudly.  

“ Stop that,” Grillby says sharply, irritation evident in his voice.  Sans bites back the rest of his tears and wipes the already fallen ones off his face. Grillby continues, arms crossed. “Do you understand why running off like that is a bad idea?” Sans nods dumbly - he knows that is what the flame wants to hear, but he also means it.  He had almost been captured.  He was almost forced to return to the labs.  He had almost died.

He let that sink in for a moment - down to the marrow.  He had almost died, and the only reason he wasn’t on one of The Doctor’s operating tables cut to pieces right now is because of the man right in front of him.  He doesn’t understand.  He doesn’t understand!  His breath hitches again and again until it devolves into muffled sobs.  Grillby saved him,  _ saved his life _ , and he doesn’t know why.  He doesn’t have anything he can offer except…

The sobs get harder.

“ Oh for the love of - would you quit that already!?” Grillby hisses, seeming more irritated than angry.  “You’re fine, kid.  You’re safe.  I’m not going to let some stuffy scientist drag you back to whatever hell you came from just so you can be  _ fucking raped to death  _ by that feathered fuc-”

Grillby’s rant is cut short by a pair of big, watery eyes looking at him.  Staring with an unspoken question just behind them that Sans wants to ask… but can’t.  He’s still scared.  The question is on the tip of his teeth and he just can’t push it out.  But he has to know.  He can’t possibly survive this constant state of worry.  If the answer is a bad one… so be it.  He can live with that, but he just has to know.

“ What are you-” Grillby starts, but is cut off.

“ are y-you… a-are you g-going to do what ms. Roslyn did?”

The question hangs for far too long.  Grillby’s eyes lock onto Sans, who shivers and looks away. Wrong question - Bad question.  Sans thinks maybe he’d hit him, or beat him, or scream at him, but when Sans looks back up Grillby is frozen, and that reaction is so unexpected Sans has no idea how to react.

“ b-boss?” His hands are shaking in their vice-like grip of the sheets above him.  Grillby shoots off the bed in a swift movement, the motion startling Sans. He ducks his head quickly and mutters short apologizes.

That’s a bad reaction, he's sure of it.  He shouldn’t have said anything.  Sans is silently cursing his own stupidity when the flame finally speaks.

“ No.”

The word is said soft and quick; Sans has to strain himself to make sure he had really said it and it wasn’t just his hopeful imagination. He watches the flame, who seems to be frozen again, but before Sans can inquire further, Grillby sits back down. His expression is schooled and he continues. “No. Absolutely not.”

Sans can feel his entire body relax as he lets out the breath he had been subconsciously holding. He's shaking harder now, and for the life of him he can't understand why. He isn't scared, he's just... tired. Exhausted. He is fighting back tears again, but he absolutely refuses to let them fall. Grillby seems to notice, and gives a small defeated sigh.

“ Alright, kid,” Grillby says, placing a hand on Sans' stiff shoulder. “Just this once.”

The chipping at the walls finally breaks, and with Grillby's permission in mind Sans doubles over and sobs. His shoulders shake and suddenly his age is on display. Sans has never looked so small. So young. He doesn't notice, nor does he care. He's weak, and he knows it. He can't defend himself, or his brother. He owes his life to the man in front of him, and he still doesn't understand.

He doesn't understand!

“ i don't understand,” Sans sobs, wiping his eyes and looking back up at Grillby. “i don't understand,” he repeats.

Grillby puts his hand on the kid's back. “You don't have to, kid.” He says lightly. “Just know that you belong to me, alright, and while you belong to me you are  _ never _ going have to do what you did wherever you're from. 'Kay?”

“you won’t send me back?”  Sans sniffs, rubbing an eye.

“Never,” Grillby asserts.

“but roslyn…”

“Roslyn’s dead, kid,” Grillby tells him, standing up and taking the empty bowl with him as he leaves.  “And  _ no one _ is going to get you while you’re with me, got it?”

Sans nods, laying back down.  The flame leaves and Sans has time to digest all that he’s just learned.  Grillby is going to keep him, Roslyn is… gone.  Sans’ closes his eyes and lets the last of his tears drip down his cheeks.  He’s safe.  For the first time in his life, Sans feels safe.

 

\--  

  
  


Gaster is sitting quietly in his room in the inn, sipping his tea.  It had been hard to get into the town without anyone knowing, and even harder to buy the rabbit woman’s silence.  It is amazing what people will do to keep their children safe - Gaster finds it utterly disgusting.  Children are the only beings in this place that get a pass from the “kill or be killed” world, and he simply does not understand it.

Either way, it all works out for him.  Though he can’t go personally to search the town.  He can’t risk being recognised here.  For one, he’d abandoned his post at the laboratory - something with which Asgore would not be pleased with if he ever found out.  And second if the boys are indeed still alive then they are being aided by someone.  

That someone does not need to know that Gaster is looking for him.

Because _that someone_ is going to die the moment Gaster finds them.

So for now he has his underling searching the forest for them. Roslyn is a competent woman and an overall decent scientist, but sometimes he can let her… unconventional desires get the best of her.  He is beginning to worry about her.  She said she would be back at dusk, and by now it’s dawn -

three days after she said she’d be back.

There is a quiet knock on Gaster’s door and he rushes to it, hoping for news on his assistant.  He is very disappointed to see the Inn owner’s son standing in front of the door holding a tray of food up for him.

“ H-hello, sir,” The bunny says nervously.  “I’ve brought you your breakfast.”

Gaster glares at the child and snatches a bowl off the tray.  The family has been feeding out of their own pantry them since they arrived and made their ‘arrangements’ to stay.  Gaster can’t complain with free food, but the child’s presence enrages him.  He has specifically requested that he does not see the boy, and the fact that he has been ignored makes him burn with annoyance.

Before he can close the door on the little pest he has the gall to speak to him.

“ Are you really a scientist?” He asks, looking at him with wide, curious eyes.  Gaster would love to tear them out of his skull.

“ Yes,” He snips, hoping the child will leave.  He would slam the door shut but the child is already halfway into his room - the only thing seeming to stop him from trespassing being Gaster’s presence at the door.

“ I want to be a scientist too!” The kid says, seeming to lose all of his reserves in an instant. Gaster really wishes he wasn't here.

“ Fascinating,” He says dryly. “Now if you don't mind -”

“ My mom says I should stay away from you,” The child blathers on and Gaster slumps, defeated. If this keeps up he may go back on his word to the boy's mother and knock the brat out a window. “But you seem pretty cool! Have you ever killed someone with an experiment?”

“ Hundreds – can you just,” Gaster is cut off one last time by the boy whistling and bathing about how he almost cut off one of Gyftrot's horns. Gaster's hands tighten around the bowl and the door, and he finally takes a step forward to put the child in his place when the mother rushes up the stares.

“ Harry!”

The boy jumps as his mother swoops over to protect the child from the dangerous scientist. “I told you to leave it by the door! I-I'm sure doctor Gaster is very busy.”

“ Indeed.” Gaster's eyes narrow.

The mother wrestles with her child to get him to go down the stairs and do his chores. Gaster watches with hawk-like eyes, the useless woman's neck hairs pickling from the constant gaze. When the brat has finally left she turns to face him, a terrified and angry glare reaching him.

“ I've put you up. I've told no one you were here. I've fed you from my own fucking pocket,” She spits at him, keeping her distance but stepping forward just an inch. “So leave my son alone.”

“ I have left your child in peace, like I said,” Gaster says smoothly. “ _ He _ was the one bothering  _ me. _ ” The woman's outrage does not fade, instead seeming to grow with Gaster's denial of wrongdoings. Gaster sighs. “If there is a grievance here I can  _ rearrange _ our bargain.”

She snarls at the skeleton, defeated but not complacent. “What kind of monster are you, threatening the lives of children?”

A large, sharp toothed smile etches its way across Gaster's face. He places the blow on the table by the door and paces forward. The woman takes a sharp breath and backs away as Gaster looms above her.

“ The kind of monster who is willing to do  _ anything _ to get what he wants,” He says, snatching the woman's' jaw and forcing her to look at him. Her breathing is erratic, but her face remains defiant of the towering monster. Gaster smiles wide. “Now, since it seems I am down and assistant and otherwise confined to this room, tell me  _ woman _ .” He pulls the rabbit close. “Do  _ you _ know anything about the missing skeleton puppies?”


	7. Moving Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So - show of hands, should I continue this?  
> <3

Grillby is on edge.  

The last of the bounty hunters have cleared out and the posters for the child have all been discreetly removed, but Grillby still does doesn’t feel safe.  A trained eye might catch it - He scrubs his dishes a little too long and a little too hard.  He paces the restaurant, passing it off as checking on his customers but really just looking for any excuse to move his legs.

Despite his new chronic nervousness, Grillby has been doing quite well

Rumors have spread that he captured the dangerous pair of shape-shifters and tamed them, keeping them as hunting dogs to track down and kill his enemies.  It’s actually not that far from the truth when Grillby thinks about it, though that story has a lot more edge to it than he thinks there really is.  Which is good.  The more people who think he's dangerous the less like it is for him to be attacked.

And now with a mysterious death in the middle of the woods the town has gone unusually quiet to the bartender.  There are still roughty monsters starting fights left and right, and there is still a lot of talk about rumors and the general useless drivel that captures the monster’s imaginations… but no one _dares_ mention the pups to Grillby, not even the worst drunk - and attacks, vandalism and threats have all become next to nonexistent.  Really it’s all he ever wanted to come of this situation.

So why is he so nervous?

Because it’s not the townsfolk that have Grillby tapping his fingers nervously.

It’s the man pacing outside of his store.

Every day he come to the front of the bar, but never enters.  He watches the store for a couple hours, eyeing Grillby while he pretends not to care, then leaves.  In any other case Grillby might call the guard for suspicious behavior, but somethings about this man keep Grillby from making the call.

The monster is a very tall man who wears a long black coat that drags the ground when he moves from place to place, giving him a kind of floating gait.  The delta ruin is proudly displayed on his chest and there is another insignia just below it that took Grillby a few days to recognize as the one that Roslyn had been wearing.

The most shocking feature about him, though, was the _type_ of monster he was.

The man who has been stalking the bar is a skeleton.

Skeletons used to be a very, _very_ common type of monster.  They were a very large class of monsters that were quite admired and feared for their power.  But that was a long time ago - before Grillby was even born.  Most of them were wiped out in the Great War, leaving the species next to extinct.  In fact, Grillby has only met _two_ other skeletons in his life…

And they are both currently sleeping in his back room.

_“Dr. Gaster? The royal scientist? Commissioned by the king?”_

_“He’s the one who created them…”_

Grillby’s eyes narrow as he watches the man, being careful not to be caught watching him.  There is no one else that that could be.  This is the man who created the boys -

_The same man who gave them both nightmares every other night.  The same man who let that disgrace of a monster touch Sans.  The same man who lined their bodies with scars.  The same man who screwed those fucking -_

There is a loud shatter and Grillby realises he’s broken the glass he was cleaning.  Muttering profanities he puts down the cracked glass and goes to the sink in hopes of removing all of the shards before they bury too deep.  When he looks back at the window he finds that Gaster has vanished.  Nowhere to be seen.

Grillby sighs.

Gaster is beyond suspicious - he _knows_ , and Grillby is sure that despite his best efforts his behavior is only confirming the twisted man’s assumptions.  If this were any other monster Grillby would suspect a break in by now - though with Gaster he knows that it won’t be money or liquor he’s after.

Sweeping up the glass shards, Grillby finally comes to a conclusion...

He can’t keep the children anymore.

Not here, at least.

 

\---

 

“Wake up, kid, We’re heading out.”

Sans blinks and shifts, rubbing his eyes.  He’s still tired; he didn’t think they had a lesson tonight.  They always get the day off to recuperate and relax after two practices - Grillby can’t sleep during the day, afterall.  

Papyrus has already scampered out of the closet and his circling Grillby’s feet in canine form.  Sans pulls himself into a sitting position and yawns.  What could they be doing that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?  

Grillby gives the sleepy skeleton a disapproving stare. “Well?  You coming?”

“yes, boss.”  Sans stands to full height and follows behind Grillby, trying to shake the residual sleep from his mind.  He’s tired, but curiosity  overrules his need for sleep.  What are they doing tonight?  It’s not like Grillby to deviate from a schedule.  

Grillby leads the pups out into the main bar.  Sans notices that one of the chairs has been stacked with dark clothing.  Grillby tosses him the smallest of the coats (it still hangs down to Sans’ knees) and Papyrus shifts to bipedal to take a black sweater for himself.  Sans looks at the coat for a long moment.  They haven’t seen these clothes around before.  New outfits?  Sure they have two sets of clothes - more than they’ve had in their entire life - but they already have jackets...  His fingers play over the buttons but he makes no move to put the jacket on.  Why are they getting new clothes?  Everything about this is very strange, and it puts Sans slightly on edge.

“Well, kid,” Grillby says, pulling on a black hat to cover his glowing blue hair.  “You gonna stare at it all night?”

Sans blinks and nods, quickly shrugging on the coat and rolling the sleeves up messily.  The ill-rolled sleeves create lumpy, restricting balls of fabric just above the elbow.  Grillby grumbles something about “teaching these kids how to wear their damn clothes” before kneeling to help him with the sleeves and folding them neatly.  

“b-boss,” Sans says nervously.  “wh - what are we doing?  It’s not a training night...”  New clothes, waking up on a night off, Grillby’s slight nervous disposition - Sans isn’t _completely_ naive.  He knows there’s something more going on here, he just hopes it isn’t bad.

Grillby gives him a searching look, seeming somewhat taken aback at how astute the small skeleton is.  He shakes his head and sighs, leaning over to straighten out Sans’ collar and then moving to work on Papyrus.  Just as Sans think’s he is going to be ignored, Grillby speaks up.

“Moving.” He says quickly, trying to get Papyrus to stop squirming long enough to pull the sweater over his head.  

“moving?” Sans doesn’t understand.  They’re always moving - that’s the point of walking around.  Is it a new training exercise? Are they going to test out the teleportation again?  They had already come to the conclusion that it was too unsafe to uses since people are still looking for them.

Sans shutters just a bit at the memories from just a few nights prior before Grillby replies.

“Yeah, you kids have outgrown the closet back there,” Grillby says, wrapping a dark red scarf around Papyrus’ neck, nearly getting it all the way to the poor boy’s eyes.  He squirms but doesn’t immediately shake it off.  “And I ain’t havin’ ya in the bar.” Grillby snorts.  “I’ve always wanted a bigger place anyways.”

Sans understands none of that, but nods along anyways.  So they aren’t going to be sleeping in the tiny room back there anymore?  That’s nice.  He doesn’t really like small spaces, and Papyrus is getting so much bigger… he may not fit even in his canine forms soon.

But… where are they going?

Sans doesn’t ask - he still doesn’t trust that he won’t say something dumb that will get this man to retract his kindness.

Grillby finishes off the pile of clothes on himself, leaving only a large black bag stuffed with something Sans can’t identify - something like a blanket.  He turns the lights off and holds out his arms, examining them.  “Can you two see me?” He asks, turning towards the pair.  Sans shakes his head; in his bipedal form his eyes aren’t nearly as powerful.  There is a little glow, obviously, but not enough that it would give them away.  Grillby is still standing as if waiting for an answer, and Sans realizes that with all of the black clothing Grillby can’t see them either.

“no, sir,” Sans says.

“Good,” Grillby gives a decisive nod, grabbing the bag and swinging it on to his shoulder.  “Let’s get going.”

Sans follows behind Grillby with his brother.  When the leave the bar for the frigid, snowy  night they turn left instead of right, the way they would normally go to practice.  Sans hasn’t been this way since that night in snowdin when they had been cornered by those monsters, back before they had been taken in by Grillby.  It brings back memories of independence, of freedom and being on their own…

None of them are good ones.

Sans shivers as the snow fall picks up, blanketing the grown with white powder.  It’s really coming down hard tonight...

Papyrus is skipping along, but he looks as confused as Sans feels.  Sans isn’t the only one to notice how strange things are going tonight.  Papyrus finally rushes forward and yanks at Grillby’s jacket sleeve.  “WHERE ARE WE -”

“Shhh!” Grillby spins around and shushes the boy.  Papyrus shrinks back and ducks his head.  Sans reaches out to comfort him, but Papyrus pulls away, leaving him just a bit empty.

“Sorry.  Where are we going?” Papyrus says, as close to a whisper as the distinct child’s voice can get.

“Just up head,” Grillby says, dismissively.  “Now be quiet.”

Papyrus nods and the boys spend the rest of the walk in silence, save for the light crunches of their boots against the snow.  Grillby’s head swings almost rhythmically, searching for any sign of life besides themselves.  Sans looks around as well, and finds that while most of the occupied houses’ lights are out, there are a couple who seem to be perpetually on.  They are still in a highly inhabited area.  Sans pushes close to Papyrus; if Grillby is nervous then there is good reason for them to be too.  

Papyrus doesn't seem to agree, because as soon as Sans reaches forward to hold his brother’s hand he dashes forward.  He hates it when Papyrus won’t stay close - who knows what’s out there that could hurt him.

Sans’ mind can’t help but wander back to the day he ran off.  It always makes him a little dizzy to think about it, and he tries not to linger on that memory too long.  The thought makes him push closer to Grillby.  He knows that he is supposed to protect the older man, but he feels so much safer when he’s near him.  

After a long time of walking Sans starts to notice the lights in the houses get fewer and fewer, until finally it seems they are back in that abandoned part of town that Sans and Papyrus had stayed in for a long while.  Papyrus is curiously looking at everything, seeming to be caught up in some kind of strange nostalgia.  Sans, on the other hand, is looking at everything for a completely different reason.

Why did Grillby take them here?  What is the purpose of this?  Sans wants to ask but he keeps silent with the question on his proverbial tongue.  He knows he’s not supposed to speak out of turn, but more than that he doesn’t want to be caught by someone doing something that they aren’t supposed to.

Because Sans will bet that whatever they are doing, they aren’t supposed to be doing it.

Grillby finally finds what it is he’s looking for and approaches a large, two story house.  Grillby sets the bag down on the steps with care not to make too much noise, and ruffles through it.  Sans and Papyrus wait just below, still standing knee deep in the freshly fallen snow.  

Papyrus is mulling around, kicking at snow puffs and jumping in particularly runny bits of snow.  Sans tries to keep him still, but as he goes after Papyrus he takes a better look at the house.  Really it’s one of the nicer, somewhat _intact_ buildings in the neighborhood.  Sans remembers trying to break into this one and giving up because there wasn’t a single hole in the whole building.  It was nice enough to live in, but no one did, and Sans really can’t tell why. The building seems to still be uninhabited, so Sans doesn’t understand what Grillby would want with -

A crash sounds followed by a string of swears that make both Papyrus and Sans duck their heads.  The monster is looking over his shoulder, holding the broken handle and lock to the door.  His eyes catch the boys and narrow.

“The hell are you two doing fuckin’ around over there!”  He hisses, “Get over here.”

The boys nod respectfully and trot up to the door.  With the knob gone Grillby just has to break the chains around the door and push his way in, motioning for the brothers to follow him.

Sans and Papyrus file behind Grillby, who unwraps his dark scarf so that he can light the room with his flames.  Sans keeps Papyrus close, but looks around, drinking in the change of scenery.  It’s been so long since the boys have been let out of the house for anything but training, it’s a wonderful rush to be somewhere new.  Papyrus must be feeling it too, because he is throwing himself to the end of Sans’ arms to explore.  Sans eventually tries to pick up his brother to stop his wandering, only to realize that his brother is far too big to be carried now.  

Sans barely has time to lament the loss before Grillby’s quiet voice rings out.

“Well, this place look nice to you?”  He asks, question direct at both boys.  Sans tilts his head.  What is he supposed to answer that with?  He hasn’t really looked around that much, from what he’s seen it’s a nice house… but why would they want to stay here when they already have a place to stay.

Unless.

Sans’ marrow runs cold, but he shoves the possibility out of his mind.  No.  Grillby said he'd keep them… he wouldn’t just -

“I LIKE IT!” Papyrus says, his natural speaking volume just a bit much for everyone else in the room.  Sans flinches while Grillby shushes him again.  Papyrus bows his head, slightly flustered.

“What about you, kid?” This one is for Sans, and he shrugs, not really wanting to approve or disapprove the house.  Grillby seems to take this as an affirmative and throws down the bag, unzipping it.  Sans watches carefully as he pulls out two… things.  They’re big and fluffy like blankets but are shaped just a bit differently.  He hands one bundle to Papyrus and the other to Sans.

“Lay those out flat down here,” He says, heading for the stairs.  “I’m going to check up here and make sure that everything’s safe.”

Sans looks at the rolled up fabric in his hand for a moment before clumsily undoing the latches and laying it out.  Papyrus does the same, though just a bit less coordinated than Sans.  They’re puffy like really big quilts with a slit at the top that Papyrus shifts to get into, losing most of his clothing in the process.

“papyrus!” Sans says nervously.  He can feel a little sweat forming on his brow.  He’s already nervous from all of the weirdness - he doesn’t want to get in trouble for shifting without permission and he doesn’t like his brother being out of sight, even if he can still see the little lump in the cloth where his brother has settled.

Papyrus’ head pops out of the weird blanket and he yips at Sans just a but loudly.  “SANS!  YOU’VE GOTTA TRyyy--”

“Shhh!” Sans puts a hand around Papyrus’ muzzle.  “Papyrus you can’t just -”

Papyrus shakes Sans’ hand off and grabs the sleeve to pull Sans into the blankets.  Sans doesn’t resist only because he doesn’t want to tear the fabric of his clothing.  Sans finds that the inside of the sheets is much warmer and make of a softer material.  The house has no heating (or electricity or plumbing or anything for that matter) and the perpetual winter of Snowdin has made everything in the house frigid - including the two skeletons.  The natural heat inside of the bag feels really nice on Sans’ bones.  It’s almost enough to lull him back to sleep.

Papyrus snuggles up close to him under the covers and allows Sans to wrap his hands around him for the first time in a while.  He buries his face into Papyrus’ bones and his anxiety slowly melts.  Things just feel okay now...

“Kids?”

Sans jolts and reality floods back to him.  He scrambles out of the fabrics and drags Papyrus with him, looking flustered and ashamed.

“s-sorry, s-s-sir,” He stutters, hoping he won’t be upset.  

On the contrary, Grillby seems quite amused by the sleepy pair, giving a rare, toothy smile that most people would find horrifying.  He descends the last of the stairs and flops down on the couch by the pair.  The couch is old and molded, leaving a small cloud of dust when Grillby sits.  He mutters about replacing as soon as he can before looking down at the little expectant faces staring up at him.

“So, you two figured out the sleeping bags?”  He says, feet propped up on the broken coffee table.

Sans nods, trying to make as little noise as possible, but far be it from Papyrus to do anything quite.  

“THEY ARE REALLY SOFT AND COMFY!”  Papyrus chirps.  “CAN WE SLEEP ON THEM?”

“That’s what you’re supposed to do,” Grillby says.  Papyrus yips excitedly and rushes back to his bag, nuzzling his way in and curling up inside.  It isn’t long before his breathing evens out and tiny snores can be heard from inside the covers.  Sans watches him for a moment before turning back to the flame.  He feels just the tiny bit of anxiety coiling inside of him, but he pushes it.

“Somethin’ on your mind, kid?” Grillby asks, looking the kid over.  Sans’ face snaps to him and he shakes his head quickly.  Grillby gives a long sigh and sits up a little straighter.  “You know, I thought we were past this whole not tellin’ me shit thing.”

Sans flinches and ducks his head.

“n-no... i mean… it’s just…” Sans rubs his wrist, fingers glinting off the shining metal plate drilled into his hand.  “i... w-when are we going b-back home?”

Sans’ soul is beating hard.  He doesn’t want to be abandoned here, but it seems as though Grillby wants the pair to stay here for the night, and Sans doesn’t see him carrying a sleeping back.  Every second that Grillby doesn’t answer is torture for the little skeleton and he ducks his head futher before Grillby’s voice rings out.

“You two are going to stay here for a little while,” Grillby says, confirming Sans’ fears.  He nods a little brokenly, his mind going back to the months of starvation and fending for themselves.  Are the two of them going to have to go back to living like that?  Fighting for every day?  Grillby cuts off the morose thoughts and continues.  “I’ll still come by in the evenings for training and to bring you two food - eventually I wanna live here with you - but right now I have some… business to deal with.  I promise I will come back for you two.” He adds, watching Sans’ admittedly skeptical face.

And why shouldn’t Sans be skeptical of the man?  Their entire relationship has been deception - it _started_ through deception.  Sans looks at Grillby’s eyes, though.  He looks sincere, and there isn’t any trace of lies or deceit.

Grillby sighs and bends over, picking the small skeleton off the ground.  Sans gasps a little and clings to the older monster tightly on instinct.  Grillby places Sans in the bag next to his brother and zips it up tighter, leaving only Sans’ head exposed.

“Look, kid,” He says lightly.  “You just have to stay in here during the day.  I’ll be down at the bar tomorrow then I’ll come back in the evening.  I’ve got lots of food so you can take care of yourselves - you’ll be fine as long as you don’t let anyone see ya.”

Sans still looks skeptical - but also very tired.  Grillby gives a defeated sigh and sits down crossed legged.  “If it’ll make ya feel better, I’ll stay here ‘til ya fall asleep.  I promise I’ll be back tomorrow evening.”

Sans nods lazily and closes his eyes.

He doesn’t have a lot of experience with promises - no one ever bothers making them to experiments.  But they aren’t experiments anymore.  Sans doesn’t know when it happened, but somehow the two of them have turned into real monsters, and real monsters make promises… but how can Sans know if Grillby is going to break that promise?  He could just leave… or turn them in… or simply refuse to help them.

Sans looks back up at Grillby decreatly.

No.  Grillby is… nice.  He’s a good monster, though Sans is sure he would be unhappy to hear him say that.  So, closing his eyes, Sans decides that he is going to trust Grillby, and pray that his faith is well placed.

Because if it’s not, he and Papyrus are _seriously_ boned.

 

\---

 

There are footprints outside the door to the bar, leading in.

Grillby’s eyes them suspiciously; too small to be his, too big to be the boys, and the fresh waves of snow blanketing the ground ensure that they can’t be more than five minutes old.  

Someone’s in the bar.

Grillby pushes the door open and looks around the house.  The shadowy room is as empty as he left it with nothing out of place.  Grillby huffs and walks in, locking the door behind him.  “You don’t have to hide,” He says, slightly annoyed.  “I know you’re in here.”

Grillby almost jumps as the door at the back swings open, pushed by a lazy hand just out of sight.  “Oh believe me, bartender, I am not hiding.”

The voice isn’t one he recognises, so Grillby mentally crosses off several names as suspects.  The ones that are left are unlikely, and he feels a bit colder when he finally pieces together the most likely suspect.

Grillby paces forward, in no rush to put himself in the line of fire.  “Huh,” Grillby says, leaning on the bar in the back.  “You’re pretty bold for a petty burglar.”

There is a slifting, like someone standing up off of a bed or a chair… _his_ bed, _his_ chair.  Grillby’s flames burn a bit hotter.  He hates people touching his stuff, and the idea of some stuck up monster walking around in _his bar_ and _his home-_

“Oh please,” Gaster says, slowly stepping into the light.  “I am no _petty burglar_.” He spits, holding his hands behind his back as if he were king himself.  “And I believe you already know why I’m here.”

Grillby shrugs.  “Money’s under the bar, though if you try ‘n take it I’ll burn your goddamn arm off.”

A hand comes out of nowhere - quite literally - and grabs at Grillby’s shirt, pulling him forward.  The hand-shaped bullet holds Grillby just and inch from Gaster’s pacing self.  “You know, I thought you’d be smarter than this.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Grillby grumbles, following the skeleton with his eyes.

“You have survived a long time without help from a guild or companions,” He says, looking mildly interested at the surroundings of the small bar, “so I assumed you would either be very strong, very clever, or very, _very_ lucky.”  Gaster picks out a pair of glasses and a bottle at random from behind the bar.  The hand dissipates from around Grillby’s collar and Gaster hands him a glass before pouring.  “And if the latter is the case then I didn’t think you would want to do anything that would jeopardize your streak of fortune.”

Gaster pushes the glasses together in a mock toast before taking a quick sip of his; Grillby doesn’t move an inch.  Gaster looks at the flame expectantly, as if waiting for him to fill in the gaps of conversation, but Grillby has no intention of playing this guy’s game.

When it becomes very obvious that Grillby is not going to make the next move, Gaster continues.  “It’s really a shame,” He says, setting the glass down.  “You certainly are interesting - the entire town knows you by name;  They would miss you terribly if you suddenly disappeared overnight.”

“Was that a threat?” Grillby asks, letting a little bit of rage slip into his voice, but Gaster calmly shakes his head.

“Quite the opposite,” Gaster explains.  “It is actually the only reason you _haven’t_ disappeared _…_ yet.”  Gaster starts back up his self-important pacing; this pompous asshole is really grating at Grillby’s last nerve.  “You see, I work for some very important people - Asgore, currently.  He has commissioned me for some very important work, and he is a timely man; he doesn't like having his time wasted.” Gaster gets close to Grillby again, his eyes becoming dark pits.  “Neither do I.”

Gaster looks ready to kill anyone to get what he wants, and Grillby is sure he would - he’s never seen a more determined monster in his life. Grillby holds Gaster gaze, staring into the dark pits and sipping at his drink before speaking.  

“Bullshit.”

Gaster recoils at the word, shocked at Grillby’s casual tone.  His face contorts between rage and indignation before setting into a faux-calm.  “My apologies, I do not believe you understand -”

“Oh no, I understand,” Grillby says, spitting out the words with all of the contempt and bitterness he holds for the man in front of him.  “I understand better than you think.  I run a shady bar in a shady town - I see all kinds of people doin’ what they’re not supposed to.  Monsters come in here selling drugs, sex, other monsters - and sometimes I get in on the action as well,” The time Grillby is the one to move, taking a step closer to the skeleton in the overcoat.  “and the only reason I’m telling you this is because I know you’re not doing what you’re supposed to either.”

Grillby watches with pure delight as Gaster sputters, completely enraged and at a loss.  His hands clench into fists and part of Grillby really wants Gaster to hit him so he can start a fight with the man, but Gaster composes himself quickly.

“You know what I am supposed to be doing, then?” Gaster says, trying to catch Grillby in some kind of slip up.

Grillby shrugs.  “Something important for the king, you said?” He says, looking back to Gaster.  “But if that’s the case then why isn’t _he_ here?”  Gaster looks a little trapped, straining to find an answer quickly, but Grillby cuts him off.  “I don’t know what it is you think I’m doing that’s hurting you, but I’m just a simple man trying to run a simple bar.”  Grillby slips behind the counter and shelves the bottle.  “And that was some expensive liquor you just drank.”

Gaster scowls, making a show of breaking the glass and letting the shards fall to the ground.  He turns to leave, hanging in the door frame just a moment.  His voice still collected and regal as ever, though this time with a spot of annoyance in it, he speaks.  “You know, this game won’t end well for you.  If you give them up now, I will spare your life and _perhaps_ your livelihood.”

Grillby just shrugs.  “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about, buddy.”

Gaster leaves without another word.

“Then I will see you again soon,” He says, walking out into the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Every comment means the world, even if I don't comment back.  
> Enjoy!  
> :)  
> 


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